The Legends of Hillwood
by Singer of Time
Summary: There begs a question in the minds of many an almost-sixth-grader from PS. 118: Just how DO you return to normal life after part of summer spent in the jungle? Some of them have some ideas, at least. A hopeful series of one-shots post-TJM (Perhaps some pre-TJM if the ideas strike).
1. All Just A Dream?

((AN: Sooo, surprise! Another new story, and hopefully even a new series of one-shots. :3

So, you guys may know (and what fan _doesn't_ at this point?), another favorite Nickelodeon show from my childhood has recently had its very-ultra-long-awaited conclusion in the form of Hey Arnold! The Jungle Movie back in November, with the DVD coming out right soon if it's not already. And considering how excited I was for it, amazed to watch it, and finding it pretty reasonably perfect, I've been gripped with a re-obsession for the show, and I must have watched the entire series again about three times. And my head has been throwing me several story ideas on top of it, while I've been looking for some good fics to read.

So now, I finally decided to cave in and write one of mine, after convincing myself that writing a Hey Arnold! fanfic would _not_ be a sacrilege, but instead a tribute to memorable work of art from the 90's. It's time to see if I can keep these guys in-character as well as I have the Gaang. x3 Helga in particular will be interesting; I love writing her sassy attitude, but even though I've been known to wax poetic, I'm not _nearly_ as dramatic as she is, so I'll have to be cheesy _on purpose_ for her monologues. XD But here's to hoping that this first attempt is enjoyable. She's also an interesting character psychologically, and may spawn some interesting ideas, thus.

And of course I had to make the first story emotional and shippy (my specialty, I think xP), because Arnold and Helga have long been on my list of canon ships that _will surely be the death of me it's so freakin' sweet._ XD I have a few other story ideas written down, but if you guys want to send me ideas or prompts, be my guest, and I'll consider them. =) I'm still gripped by this show, so I'm gonna ride this train for as long as I can!

Fun fact; at one point I considered taking out Brainy's appearance, but, randomness like that is what made the _show_ funny, so hey, might as well keep it. x3

Enjoy! All characters and Hillwood belong to Craig Bartlett; I'm just playing in his sandbox. ^.^ ))

* * *

All Just A Dream?

 _"_ _Hey-Arnold! Hey-Arnold! Hey-Arnold!"_

Arnold groaned as, without moving anything else, he sleepily let his hand reach up to unplug the wire of his alarm clock from its potato charger. _I should remember to_ _turn that off for summer vacation_ _,_ he thought to himself as he tried to rise out of his last dreams.

And they'd been very familiar, very sad dreams, at that. He'd been on another grand adventure alongside his parents, in their plane...only to leave him to fly it as they'd suddenly parachuted out and down into a misty expanse, where he could no longer see them...and no longer ever find them...so many different ways that the dreams went, but they all ended up the same way.

He shook his head and sat up, wiping the remnants of tears that had been shed in the night out of his eyes. _I'm STILL having those dreams. Why am I STILL having those dreams? My parents...they're not gone anymore._

 _...Are they?_ A flash of adrenaline made his eyes widen, waking him up with a further jolt.

Indeed, it had only been a couple of days since they made it back home from San Lorenzo. Back in their old familiar neighborhood, full of old familiar sights and sounds that reassured every one of the slightly-traumatized kids that they'd gotten through that harrowing adventure, it was time for them to get back to their normal lives (or try to) and enjoy the rest of summer vacation before stepping into their new grade level at school. For Arnold, though, his reality seemed to just be a little more surreal since that day; his subconscious just _couldn't_ seem to believe it.

 _...San Lorenzo couldn't have all been a dream too, could it?_ He was grimacing, before he shook his head violently. _No, it couldn't have been. It was far too real...and I think I still have bruises from fighting off La Sombra._ His eyes shut tight against the fervent, clear memory of his last dream. _That's it. I HAVE to get downstairs and see...!_

Quickly dressing himself, Arnold all but rushed straight down the attic stairs and into the hall, following the voices of everyone who had to be awake at that hour of the morning.

And, amid the earnest voices of his grandparents, there were indeed two that seemed so new to his ears after so many years without hearing them...

The boy was running so fast by this point that he came to a skid just before he reached the kitchen door, overshot it, hit a wall corner, and turned himself around to rush back through the door again.

There in the kitchen, he seemed to have interrupted a conversation with all the members of his immediate family gathered together at the breakfast table; the boarders hadn't yet woken up, having not smelled any breakfast being made. For once, his grandmother looked solemn and happy (as opposed to happy and playing up her eccentricities) as she fussed with his father's collar like a concerned mother would, while Arnold's mother listened with a fond smile to his grandfather try to find stories to tell about the neighborhood that they'd missed.

But all at once, they turned to see Arnold in the doorway with a wide ear-to-ear smile and eyes that looked about to tear up with joy again. "You guys _are_ here...it wasn't a dream...!" he exclaimed with a broken voice.

"Well, mornin' Short Man," said Phil with a cheerful wave as he seemed to overlook the boy's overly-relieved attitude. "What kinda energy got into _you_ today? Y'about tore the door off!"

His parents, however, had caught his mood instantly and gestured him over. "Arnold, sweetie, you had a bad dream?" Stella asked as she wrapped her son in her arms. "Is everything okay?"

"...Yeah..." he sniffed and just lost himself in his parents' touch, her mother's arms around him and his father's hand in his hair. "Yeah, I'm okay now...I'm just...glad we're all back..."

"We're glad to _be_ back, son..." Miles said in a soothing voice, "And we're here to _stay_ this time, we promise."

"Definitely," Stella agreed. "With the medicine we made, I doubt that the Green-Eyes will have any trouble with the Sleeping Sickness and need us back all that soon."

"Oh, now, don't go saying things like that," Phil suddenly piped up, "Y'might just jinx it."

"C'mon, Pops..." Miles rolled his eyes. "Don't be so superstitious."

"Boy, if yer not superstitious, then I didn't raise ya right! Listen, y'know how I got to live this long? I take every precaution. Y'never know what might happen..."

"Considering the luck I've had while married to this goof, I might just start to agree," Stella deadpanned.

Her husband nudged her playfully. "Hey! I haven't been _that_ bad...have I?"

"I still owe you AND Eduardo a few punches..."

"Heheheh!" Phil laughed heartily. "Ohh, it's good t' have ya back, Stella...boy still needs to be kept in line, eh?"

"Just like his father," Gertie added with a grin.

"Yeah, just like... _heeey,_ " he gave his wife a sideways glare, to which she just had a proud smirk.

And Arnold, listening to this conversation as closely as he could, just took in every moment of it with his smile still refusing to leave his face. _This is going to be an interesting_ _summer...and_ _rest of my life..._

* * *

Meanwhile, just outside of one of the windows of the boarding house looking through into the kitchen, Helga Pataki was carefully camouflaged in the shadows of the side alley, just peering in at the goings-on and trying to catch a glimpse of Arnold among his family.

What she did finally see was her beloved in the arms of his parents once again, looking happier and more fulfilled than she'd ever seen him.

"Huh...yeah, there's his parents...so it wasn't all a dream after all," she murmured to herself and dropped away from the window.

Indeed, while Arnold had been constantly wondering why his dreams kept plaguing him with visions of having never found his family, Helga had been just barely convinced that the whole adventure had been real, herself. Traipsing through the jungle, escaping a vicious band of river pirates, solving puzzles leading to a hidden city, _saving_ the people within said city (with her _locket?_ Talk about crazy), reuniting Arnold with parents who had _not_ abandoned him, but had merely been caught by the sickness and was just sleeping all that time...

And then there was, to her, the _least_ plausible memory of all: Arnold fulfilling all of her hopes and actually, really, _truly_ returning her feelings, sealed with a sweet but simple _MUTUAL for Pete's sake_ kiss.

Even after a couple of days home with some real rest, it was _still_ taking Helga a little time to process everything. She'd ducked out of the Beeper Emporium quite early that morning, barely eating anything for breakfast except for what she could grab from the convenience store, in order to make her way to the boarding house; firstly to see for herself whether or not she was still in a long dream...mission accomplished, she wasn't.

And secondly, she hoped to catch Arnold just to try to talk to him, properly, after a lot of mustering her confidence to do so (pretty much from the whole time after they were reunited with all of the other kids and adults until they got home, Helga had held back from talking much at all with him; he'd been so engrossed in having his parents back, she thought he'd deserved that time with them).

"Still, maybe _part_ of it was a dream, and the _other_ parts are real...oh, who am I kidding?" she kept speaking aloud to herself as she wound up walking around to the front of the boarding house, leaning on the banister. With a quick glance around, Helga grabbed her heart-shaped locket from in her shirt and tenderly held the sides, looking at the jagged and previously-torn picture inside with a small pout. "Oh, Arnold, my muse, my love...how I can still _feel_ it so vividly, remember it so well, the press of your lips upon mine in true gratitude for my deeds...how I remember your sweet words, your sincere praise...! But I _curse_ my wretched subconscious as it teases me in my sleep with the same visions...how am I yet to know what is real? I must know once and for all, whether or not your pure heart is now as mine...as mine, pure as you believe it is, has always been yours..."

Helga breathed out a long sigh. Her fingers lightly ran over the locket's gold-plated sides, and she could catch a few little scratches that it had received from being placed inside the giant cure-dispensing machine. She decided to move to sit on top of the railing of his stoop. "May fate grant me that chance today, if it has been so kind as to truly grant me that kiss..."

With that, she swooned and let her gaze run up to the sky, now starting to wonder whether she should just wait for him to come out...or knock...or even just get off the boy's stoop and save the idea for later...

* * *

Thankfully for Helga, the decision would soon already be made for her.

"We should do something today after breakfast," Stella suggested as she and Miles followed Arnold into the front room, near the door. "There's so much of this neighborhood we haven't seen in years."

"Yeah, sheesh; it was bad enough seeing how it changed after we came back the _first_ time," Miles grimaced and rolled his eyes up in thought, rubbing the back of his neck. "But after almost _ten years,_ I'm wondering what's still here at _all._ "

Arnold was chuckling; he was prepared to find any idea at all from his parents just the greatest, because he'd be going along with them, catching up and doing things together. He didn't know exactly how he could be much happier, just thinking about it.

"Sounds great to me, Mom and Dad...there's a _lot_ of things I could show you just around walking distance. Mighty Pete, Gerald Field..." he began, almost about to open the door for the animals, when he suddenly caught sight of movement out of one of the windows next to the stairs. His eyes widened in surprise when they fell upon Helga, sitting and leaning back on his stoop banister, looking lost in thought (and looking at her locket, at that).

 _Okay...I guess one thing makes me a bit happier now too,_ Arnold thought as he recalled the entirety of Helga's involvement in their adventure; her bravery, her brilliance, every act of ultimate selflessness...despite her rough personality, he'd seen Helga on that journey as she truly was, which only cemented the feelings that he'd been building for her for some time beforehand.

 _I really haven't talked to her lately, since we got back...really, since that night we kissed..._ _I'd like to talk to her again...hopefully if she's in a mood for it. She looks like it...holding that locket of me..._ beneath his notice, his face was starting to warm, and he looked almost positively smitten.

This fact, of course, didn't go unnoticed by his parents. "Oh, hey, looks like a familiar face came to visit!" Stella hummed as she too looked out of the window, casting her son a bit of a teasing grin. "We _could_ invite her in for breakfast..."

Miles chuckled and patted his son's shoulder, further bringing him out of his stupor. "Heh, yeah, the more, the merrier. And we'd like to meet more of your friends, anyway!"

Before anyone could open the door and address the girl on the other side, however, Arnold immediately jumped between them. "A-actually, I think _I_ should talk to Helga..." he ventured, very aware of how he must be blushing at that moment. "...Alone...just for a second. We have a few things we kinda have to discuss...I-I can guess that's why she might've stopped by."

"Aha..." Miles exchanged a small smile with Stella and gave Arnold a wink. "Gotcha. Take your time, and don't worry, we'll have breakfast waiting when you're done."

"Be sure to invite Helga, too," Stella added.

Arnold rolled his eyes, willing the red to leave his face as he reached up to open the door. "Heh, alright, I will."

* * *

Outside right then, Helga had just about made up her mind to at least knock, when she was suddenly brought out of her thoughts by a familiar faraway sound, swiftly coming closer. She'd been around Arnold's place enough now to know that it was, in fact, a stampede of the various animals that had decided to call the boarding house home.

"Aaah!" Helga yelped and leaned back against the far edge of the banister, watching as the various dogs and cats (and Abner), and some exotic animals that had stowed away from San Lorenzo (and a bat for some reason), all rushed up the stairs to make a beeline for the door as it was opening.

By the time the stampede was over and Arnold was free to peer outside, he almost laughed when he saw the blonde girl barely hanging off the other side of the banister by a hand and a leg, having overshot the leap to get away from the fray.

He kept it in, though, as he immediately reached over to grab her hand and help her back up. "Yikes; Helga, you okay?"

"Yeah, just peachy-keen, I get almost trampled by animals _every_ day; what's it _look_ like, Football Head? Sheesh!" she exclaimed and used his hold to scramble back onto the surface of the concrete rail. "What's _with_ all those things anyway? They pets or something?"

Arnold chuckled. "Actually, Abner's the only real pet...the rest of them are kinda feral. Grandma and Grandpa and some of the boarders like to feed them, though, so that's why they're around on a regular basis. You kinda get used to it; Gerald can dodge them without getting a single mark on him."

Helga scoffed and hopped from the banister onto the top stair of the stoop, brushing the dust off her arms. "Good for Geraldo..." she muttered, letting out a sigh and looking over her clothes. "No lasting damage, though."

"That's good," said Arnold, and when she looked back at him, he was giving her his usual kind smile, although there seemed to be a dash of shyness in his eyes. "So, um...what brings you here?"

She crossed her arms. "Well, not that it's any of _your_ business or anything..." she tried not to meet his eyes, lest she find herself barely finding her words, as she was doing now. "But, I was just passing by, and I thought I'd..." she scuffed her shoe on the ground. "Y'know...see how things were doing...and that maybe if you were...um..."

"See if maybe I was free to talk?" Arnold supplied for her, noticing her slight discomfort. _She's_ _trying to keep her walls up again_ _,_ _I think_ _...but I can be patient._ "I was...actually wondering just before I came out if _you_ were too."

Helga looked back at him, blinking. "Er...really? W-well...n-now that you mention it...I _could_ probably spare a few minutes...considering I've got nothing _better_ to do I mean..."

"Alright, sounds good," Arnold said, taking a step slightly closer, his hands shyly clasped behind his back. "What'd you wanna talk about?"

 _Good grief, what_ don't _I wanna talk about?_ Helga thought. _Here I am now with the boy I adore more than anything, and I can't seem to force a single word out...though, it looks like he_ _can't_ _either...makes me feel a little better._

Suddenly, before Helga could think of anything to say, she straightened up and glanced around. "Say, um...do you get the feeling we're being watched?"

Arnold looked confused for half a second, before catching a glimpse of one of the windows behind them, overlooking the stoop. His parents were both peering out at them, but they seemed to be trying a little too hard to be inconspicuous, as upon being discovered they dropped out of sight again.

"...Yeah, I do; that's because we _are,_ " Arnold said with a bit of a sigh. "I think my parents are trying to eavesdrop."

Helga slapped her forehead. "Oh, for Pete's sake..." she said with a bit of an annoyed snort. _I'll probably_ _STILL never_ _get a ding-blasted minute alone with him, knowing my luck._

He rolled his eyes and gave the window where they'd been a not-so-serious glare, making a "cut it out" motion across his throat before taking Helga by the wrist. "C'mon...I think I know where we won't be bothered."

"Heh, fat chance...but, lead on, Football Head," she acquiesced as she allowed Arnold to pull her off the stoop and into the side alley next to the boarding house, while trying not to swoon in the process. _I shall go wherever you wish us to, my liege..._

It was a short walk through the morning-lit shadows of the side alley, where they eventually came upon the gate which led into the small backyard space of the house, walled off except for beside the garage. Once there, Arnold let go of Helga for a second to fiddle with the gate's latch.

"Your backyard?" she questioned, looking around and trying to peer above the fence. "You _sure_ we won't be watched? Last I checked, there were still plenty of windows facing into it."

"Yeah," he nodded in agreement as he got it open, "But, nobody ever needs to come out here this time of day, and it's not like any of the boarders will need to look out this side. And it's quiet. We'll be able to hear the floor inside the door creaking if someone's coming." He got a sheepish look to him though once they peered inside and saw the somewhat-unkempt look of the grass. He still stepped back and allowed her in first with a gesture. "I know it's not much to look at, but..."

"Pff, like I live in ritzy digs _myself..._ " Helga waved him off as she took his invitation to step inside, her voice dropping to a mutter. "At least _you_ have a real room, not a re-purposed storage room..." She shook her head and returned to her normal speaking voice. "Anyway, me and the other kids have been here like a dozen times, you know."

"I know..." he hummed and scratched the back of his head as he watched her sit on the step of the back porch, and then turned to re-latch the gate. "It just...seemed a bit of a different situation right now, I guess...with just you and me here."

Helga couldn't help a short, goofy smile appearing on her face as she spaced out for a second. _My poor, shy little football-head, he's ACTUALLY worried about what I think of his place! Would that I had the courage to tell him that I don't CARE how it looks, I'd stick around for eternity if I could choose to do so..._

Remembering quickly where she was as Arnold sat next to her, she awkwardly cleared her throat. "Eh, it's not _that_ different. Anyway, it's as good a place as any, if your parents aren't gonna keep trying to listen in..." she snickered. "You guys must still be practically attached to each other right now, huh?"

"Well, yeah," Arnold shrugged. "They haven't seen me practically all my life...I can understand how they'd want to keep an eye on me. I kinda...really feel the same."

Helga was silent for a moment as she observed the way he seemed to grow pensive, as if he definitely had things to weigh in his mind. As much as she wanted to talk about how the two of _them_ were going to work, she'd remembered how crazy _his_ life had been, and how broken up about and focused on his parents he was. She was going to do her _darnedest_ to show him that she respected his problems, too...he deserved her full attention, if she was to even _remotely_ feel like _she_ deserved _his_. Wasn't that what love _was_ , really? And she _had_ vowed to be there for him.

At least, the whole thing gave her a topic to start on. Her eyes wandered from him and idly upward, taking in the aged building that he called home. "How're they adjusting back to city life anyway...your parents? I gotta bet the whole thing's gotta be pretty jarring for them."

" _Oh_ yeah," Arnold agreed, leaning back on his hands. "I don't know why I really thought that things would feel normal right away, with them around. When they first saw the boarding house again...or, even when they were just seeing the city from the _plane_...they'd get this...this almost sad, dazed look, like they were...lost. But then, a few seconds later, they'd smile and get excited. They're adjusting much better now at least, now that they've had a chance to recover. We've been making plans to just go around the city and see everything."

Helga hummed, and Arnold's attention picked up at the musing tone of her voice. It was always interesting whenever he would catch her completely out of her "bully" mode (even for a split moment), and see this intelligent and perceptive girl that would every so often give _him_ advice for once, or to just speak to him on his level—sometimes even above his level, without being condescending.

"Yeah, I can kinda see how they'd be acting like that," she said, idly making grooves in the soil with her heels. "Heck, with the way they—and all the adult Green-Eyes, really—the way they've all been asleep for _that_ long? It's surprising that they could still _stand_. Remember when I broke my leg that time? I had to practice walking on it again once the cast was off, the muscles were so weak from staying still. But, I dunno...I guess the Green-Eyes have some pretty powerful mojo going on. S'not like _I'm_ an expert or something..." she shrugged with a snort. "But, yeah. Good that they're doing okay. And...it's..."

She paused to rub her arm, finally turning her head to meet his eyes with a sincere look. "It's...great..." Her words of kindness were struggling to get out of a throat that wanted to be sarcastic, just like before the whole trip. _C'mon, you can do it!_ She cleared her throat again. "It's great that you...have them back."

At that, Arnold gave her a warm smile and situated himself more comfortably, at the same time also scooting a little closer to her. "Thanks, Helga...and yeah, it is...it really is." He then let out a bit of a laugh. "I still remember the looks on my grandparents' faces when we all met up again."

"Yeah, I do too," Helga let out a snort of her own. "I think _everyone_ was speechless! 'Specially me, dang...and I can't believe _my_ parents actually flew that garbage rental plane of theirs all the way here. Phoebe sure knew what she was doing with that signal thing she built."

"I _knew_ that the rest of the kids would make their way out of there too," Arnold agreed, grinning as he remembered every detail of the reunions. " _I'm_ still surprised that Abner actually found a way back home to get my grandparents...at least, that's how they tell it..." He made a disbelieving face, but then shrugged. "...And it's not such a surprise that your parents would come. It was a distress call; they'd have been worried."

"Pff...worried about _Olga_ , maybe. They hugged the crap out of _her_ , maybe spared me a few words, and then _Bob_ got miffed that I didn't sell any of the rest of the beepers. I mean, _doi,_ they wouldn't have been able to send the _distress call_ if I did." She sighed loudly. "Didn't really _need_ them to come. We didn't need a rescue."

"I'm sure they were worried about _you_ too, Helga," Arnold assured, turning to her.

She scoffed, and the scowl on her face told him that she was back in her familiar, perpetually-angry state. "Shows what _you_ know, Football Head...you're always just _so_ optimistic...how ironic that _I_ was the blind one once."

Arnold grimaced. "You don't have to be so defensive."

" _Defensive,_ I'm not being _defensive,_ who's being _defensive?_ " she exclaimed and stood up, starting to flex her fists. "I'm just a little annoyed that everyone _around_ me doesn't exactly _get_ my life; in _case_ you haven't noticed for the last _eight years_ , my family _is,_ _has been,_ and _always will be_ a sore spot. Oh, but who even _cares_ anyway, not about _me_..."

"I do, Helga!" Arnold argued. "And so does your best friend; you know that."

"I...!" she started to yell again, only to growl in frustration and kick a nearby rock, turning her back to him. After a second of standing, trying to think and having nothing but red cloak her vision, Helga's head shook. "...Y'know what? Maybe today wasn't a good day to talk after all," she intoned, still angry, but now a little more subdued, mentally kicking herself for having lost her nerve _and_ her temper. "I should just leave..."

"No."

She suddenly felt him take hold of her wrist, his fingers firm but warm. Her head whipped around to him in surprise, and there was a familiar look of determination, though the look in his eyes was also soft and pleading.

"Don't leave, Helga, please. It's a _perfect_ time to talk; and to be honest, I don't think I can stand more waiting until another moment...this was a long time coming, I imagine, and I know for a fact that _you_ want to stay, too."

Helga right then almost wanted to verbally bite his head off and deny like crazy, like she was more prone to do in the past...but she stopped herself from making any sort of retort, which was still as difficult as wrestling a tiger into a cage with one's bare hands and a lasso. _That smug little...why did I ever let him know me so well! But he's right, I know he's right, and I REALLY want to try and not mess this up, like I've done a million times before...don't get mad, Helga old girl. Don't...get...MAD._

As Arnold was waiting for a reply, she was still tense, shaking under his grasp as if holding back her energy, head turned and eyes closed, just quietly growling. But at least she didn't rip her arm out of his grasp and leave. He knew exactly what was going on under that mask, and now that he _did,_ he wasn't about to just let things go back to the way they were. They couldn't...he'd grown to like her too much, too.

Still holding her wrist, he reached around to her other hand, which was balled up into a fist (the Five Avengers, he thought; but then, the names tended to switch hands) and took it in his palm. The shaking was still there, but he'd managed to get her to turn and face him again. In Helga's mind, she just tried to will the defensive anger away, focusing on how his insistent grip felt.

"Helga...I'm sorry; I didn't mean to make you mad," he started, sincere and calm. "I just want to talk to you. It's just _us,_ so you don't have to go back to acting mean...I know you do that in public, and I think I know why...but when it's just _us,_ you can relax, okay? You can let down those walls you build around yourself. I know you better than that...you proved it. You're a loyal person, and you care deeply, and I want you to accept it too...even just around me. I know you can."

 _I know I CAN...I know I WANT to...but..._

She was still shaking, like she was still struggling to hold her anger back. But her fists at least uncurled, which allowed him to take her hands in his.

"I... _know_ how s-stupid it is...to be m-mean around you now...I d...don't _want_ to be..." she shakily confessed in an even tone, forcing her words out little by little and still refusing to meet his eyes, "But I've...done it so long...it's...too much of a...habit..."

He gave her hands a squeeze. "I understand, Helga...I do. Just breathe, okay?"

She managed a shaky huff as he led her back to the porch to sit down again. "F... _fine..._ " she still couldn't help sounding defiant. "Breathe. Can do."

"Just focus on that for a bit," he advised, remembering how meditating had helped him to just hone his own nervous energy, almost ages ago in his karate training. "You'll feel better. Trust me."

Helga dutifully did just as he said, but nodded her affirmation. "I think, e-except for Phoebe, I...trust you more than anyone else..." she admitted, her voice having gone much softer. _Why do I ever let him do this to me...but so help me, it's working. Why did I never think of just stopping to breathe before? It seems so freakin' easy._

He smiled at her words and kept up his hold. The intensity he'd seen was uncoiling quickly, and she was beginning to relax more. "Just breathe it out, Helga."

She'd gathered a big lungful through her nose, just focusing then on the scents that came to her; the soil in the backyard, the dust around the house, and _him_ , just barely close enough to smell as well. It came out in a long and hard sigh, like a balloon that had decided to deflate instead of pop, and the shaking was all but gone. She'd even squeezed his hands back a tiny bit.

When Helga saw fit to open her eyes, and saw his always-kind gaze watching back, she just quirked her lip up. "Heh...good grief, Football Head...ever think you could be a psychiatrist, or something? You'd...be pretty good at it."

He let go of one of her hands to scratch the back of his head in a shy manner, chuckling. "I dunno about _that_...but I'm glad that seemed to help. You feel better?"

"Y-yeah...I think I'm...kinda cool again. No guarantees how that'll stick," she warned, holding a finger up, "But...yeah, I think I'm good to talk. Just don't bring up my family right now, okay?"

"Gotcha," he nodded, just keeping a warm and now-much-looser hold on her hand.

The two of them were quiet for a moment longer, just letting the familiar sounds of the city outside of the backyard surround them...and now that Helga had actually _let_ herself be dragged out of her temper, she was feeling more than just _better._ Arnold hadn't let her go...he actually _wanted_ her to stay, and them to figure things out.

"...It wasn't all a dream, was it?" she asked, breaking the silence. "That whole crazy adventure. All of it was real."

Arnold hummed a slight laugh. "I've been having trouble believing it too. It's still hard to...even when I still have my old nightmares about _never_ finding my parents, there they are downstairs when I wake up..."

"I'm just having trouble believing _everything_ now," Helga sighed in agreement. "I'm glad to see that we might just _both_ be crazy."

He fully laughed at that. "Nah. We just have a lot of things to get used to. It's only been a couple of days back."

There was another moment of calm quiet, before Helga cleared her throat. When Arnold glanced at her, she was blushing, and biting her bottom lip. _Now or never._

"So then...that night at the Green-Eyes village...when we...y'know. That was real, too?"

He felt his own face going warm, and his smile refused to leave as he looked down at their joined hands bashfully. "Um...when we kissed? Y-yeah. I think it was."

"Oh...good to hear," Helga gulped, and they met each other's eyes again. "Did...did you really mean everything you said?"

Arnold's head whipped up, as if he couldn't believe the question. "Of _course_ I did, Helga...'cause it's all true. You _are_ brave, and loyal, and brilliant... _and_ pure of heart, even if you don't believe it." She couldn't recall that she'd ever seen him blushing so much, and especially not at _her_. His smile was adoring. "And...well..." his fingers laced with hers, "I can't thank you enough for everything you've done. And...just for me."

"Aw, w-well...shoot..." Helga nervously stuttered. She was fighting (and failing) to keep her smile back. "Y-you know, don't worry about it...it's just...I told you before, I don't _particularly_ hate you, so I couldn't just...let the opportunity _go..._ and I mean, anyway, th-that kiss...was thanks enough, anyway. So, enough with the goo-goo eyes, bucko..."

He laughed shyly. "Sorry...I can't help it..." his gaze turned half-lidded. "I...don't exactly _hate_ you either."

The girl felt an ecstatic shock of a shiver run through her at that, igniting her heart and making her gulp. "Y...wh...huh?"

Arnold very much noticed how flustered she was getting, and rarely though it happened, it was always _quite_ interesting to be on this side of their dynamic, breaking through her barriers with naught but a touch, or a kind word, or both. "As a matter of fact..." he said, somewhat echoing something that he'd heard before. "I like you, a lot." He leaned a bit closer, grinning. "As in _l_ _ike-_ like."

"... _Oh_..."

Right then, Helga could have almost passed out. There was entirely _no_ way that she could get angry again. In fact she couldn't help but loudly swoon...hearing these words from Arnold, words that she'd only heard in her dreams...

 _...Wait, hold on,_ said her brain at the word "dream", at which point her free hand whipped up to slap her face.

"Helga?" Arnold half-laughed in surprise at her action. "What'd you do that for?"

Her head shook rapidly. "Oof...uh, sorry, just...making sure I wasn't still dreaming or anything. I mean, heh, _you,_ like-liking _me_ , talk about wacky..."

Arnold shook his head, amused at how she was still trying to deny what was happening; she had some very deep defenses, he could very well guess. "Nope, it's all true. I really do."

She still didn't look too certain, but by the look of the shade of red on her cheeks, it was _definitely_ sinking in. "R-really? Truly?"

He was grinning. "Well, I _did_ kiss you, so..."

"Um, well, it seemed more like you just _let_ me kiss you...instead of it being, uh... _instigated_ on my part," she pointed out with a quirked brow, rubbing the back of her neck.

"Well, I'd just _wanted_ to let you," he pointed back. "I-it wouldn't have felt polite if _I_ just did it; you deserved the chance to do it for real. But I _did_ kiss back."

And Helga, dropping all pretenses of it ever being a dream, went on with clarifying the event. "And...you _meant_ it, right? I mean, it wasn't just all out of gratefulness...?"

"Well, like I said, I _am_ very grateful...so maybe that was half of it. But the other half was that I really wanted to tell you that _really_ I felt how I felt...and that was the best way to show it, at the time," he explained, trying to get his words together. _I'm usually better at this._ "Actions speak louder than words, and all...and yeah. Since we're here now, and talking, I suppose I'll just say it, too." Her hand was wrapped in both of his own now. "I _do_ like-like you, Helga, and I'd like it if we were together...so, will you...be my girlfriend?"

And she couldn't help it...she swooned without passing out, and her reply just tumbled out without a doubtful barrier to hold it back. " _Oh...Arnold_ , for how long it took to hear it from you, in the depths of my heart and soul, I'd love nothing more than to be together for _eternity..._ "

She bit her tongue suddenly against any further monologues and nodded. "I mean...heck, yeah, sure, why not...?" Helga said, a little more controlled but nonetheless as softly.

Arnold, who had paused with a deep blush to hear her voice go that fervent and passionate once more, just let out a happy laugh. "I'm very glad to hear it, Helga."

For a moment or two, the youngsters just gazed at each other happily, their hands still joined, just edging a little closer.

But then, the quiet was broken by the sound of wheezy, muffled breathing. Arnold hadn't heard it until Helga's eyes widened and she sat back a little to look around.

"Uh..." the boy blinked. "What's that?"

"Us being watched again," Helga deadpanned, then let his hands go to hold up a finger. "Hold that thought a sec."

She then stood up, having pinpointed the sound to be coming from a trash can near the door of the boarding house. With a sigh, Helga opened the lid with one hand and reached in to pull none other than an asthmatic-as-ever Brainy out by the back of his collar with the other.

Helga almost wanted to laugh rather than be angry at this familiar development, but she still kept a calmly stern look. "Hey, Brainy. Not that I'm not still _extremely_ grateful for what you did back in San Lorenzo, retrieving my locket and fixing it...thus also inadvertently helping save the Green-Eyes...seriously, kudos...but now I'm _kinda_ in the middle of an important development here. So I'll make ya a deal. I _might_ avoid punching you in the nose or any subsequent beatings henceforth—should you happen to appear behind me again _—_ _if_ you don't appear whenever I'm actually _with_ Arnold. _Otherwise,_ I'll be regularly dislocating your jaw. We clear?"

"Uh," the pale kid wheezed with a bit of a smile, giving a thumb-up. "Crystal."

"Good...now beat it," Helga simply commanded, putting him down and giving him a light shove towards the open side of the gate, where he just hastily retreated.

Arnold, having watched all this with a raised eyebrow and just a small amount of confusion, blinked at Helga when she walked back. "What in the world was Brainy doing here? And how was he in my trash can the whole time?" Really, these are just two of the quite-a-few questions he had at the moment.

"I dunno, but I have a running theory that he's got powers of teleportation," she answered, her own brow raised only in brief remark at their bespectacled classmate before dismissing him altogether and sitting down again.

With a small breath taken, she met Arnold's eyes, her gaze suddenly shy. "So, uhm..." she rubbed her arm. "Where were we, again?"

The football-headed child looked just about as shy as she was, his thumbs playing with each other nervously, though he smiled and refused to look away from her eyes. He was leaning closer again. "Well...I think I was about to kiss you myself, this time...that is, if that's okay," he still had to add in his own modest way, waiting eagerly nonetheless for her response.

 _He wants to kiss me? HE wants to KISS ME?_ Another blissful shiver went through Helga, and she seemed to be a little dazed as she answered. "Heh...t-tell ya what, Football Head; I'll um...I'll try to 'let down my walls' more often when I'm around you...b-but, not in public of course, I have limits...a-and...you can kiss me any old time; again, not in public. I-I mean, let's face it, I've got...what, four?...up on you already. You might as well try to catch up, heh..." _If this IS still a dream, then crimeny, PLEASE don't let me wake up..._

Arnold had to smile and roll his eyes up to the side, innocently looking like he was trying to think on her terms. He hummed as he let one hand rest on her shoulder, and then, flicked his gaze back to her.

"Hm...deal."

"MM!"

Helga, right then, found herself swiftly on the receiving end of yet another kiss, this time courtesy of her beloved. She was frozen solid for a second, taking in that he was _so very_ close, his hands gripping her shoulders, lips pressed completely to hers, and her mind had pretty much gone into a complete blank.

Only when the initial shock died down did she relax in his hold, closing her eyes to return the kiss (and tilting her head to do it properly; he'd pretty much mashed their noses together in his own first attempt), and pulling him in closer with one hand on his back and the other keeping her balance next to her on the porch.

They remained just like that for longer than they'd been able to back in San Lorenzo, just letting out their feelings in what little time was left in the solitude of the morning. Quiet and gentle like back then, nothing heated, or crazy, or acted, like previous others. Both of their faces were very warm, to say the least, but neither wanted to exactly let go; not until the need for air made them.

Helga let out a loving hum before they parted, still holding close, hearts racing. _Wow,_ they both thought simultaneously.

It was Arnold who broke the silence with a short, dazed chuckle. " _Now_ I think I'm one for four."

Releasing a tiny giggle of her own, Helga felt the nigh-instinctual need to come back to her senses and say something sarcastic...but for once she felt it far away. She wanted to just _stay_ in this moment for however long that time permitted. "Yeah...still got some catching up to do though, Football Head."

"Yeah, but I've got time, I think," he said as one hand released her shoulder to instead lay it on hers.

She snorted. "Just tell me one more time that this isn't a dream."

"Feels like it is, but I'm sure it's not," he replied, still in that dazed and very-smitten tone as his fingers squeezed hers.

There was a peaceful quiet that passed between them now, just lost in each other's eyes; inside, Helga's heart felt like it was doing flips. _Yes! Finally, at long last...!_

Arnold was no less in a state of bliss. _Who'd have ever thought I'd be kissing Helga Pataki and calling her my girlfriend...I don't know if I can_ love _her half as much as she seems to love me, yet...but, this is a good start. And she's...just more special than I can say._

And they would have probably been lost in that moment of quiet for a bit longer, had it not been for them suddenly hearing a very stifled, high-pitched giggle, followed by a "shh!" just beyond the gate to the backyard fence.

At that, Arnold and Helga practically jumped apart in surprise, their faces on fire. But they stole one last glance at each other with matching smiles. "Well, so much for not being watched," the boy nervously laughed with his hand behind his neck.

"That's probably gonna be our luck, Arnoldo," Helga sighed, "interrupted at every turn." _Next time we'll probably just go up to the stinkin' roof..._ She then stood up and crossed her arms, facing the gate. "Alright, chuckle-heads, show yourselves or prepare to get beaten into mashed paste!" she threatened, raising both of her fists.

That was when the gate was hastily unlatched, admitting none other than their two best friends into the yard, with their hands up in a placating manner. "Whoa, whoa, at ease, Pataki," Gerald blurted out with a wave, "It's just us."

"Indeed, Helga, there's no cause for alarm," Phoebe added, though she was smiling her reassurance as well. "We didn't mean to interrupt."

"But you _were_ eavesdropping," Arnold guessed, the statement not sounding remotely like a question as he came up beside Helga and crossed his arms, quirking an eyebrow at Gerald in particular.

The boy grimaced. "Okay, okay, y'got us, man...but I promise, we didn't get here until just a minute ago. We would've waited longer to show ourselves, but..." he sent a fond smirk to the girl next to him, " _Somebody_ couldn't keep in her excitement."

Phoebe giggled nervously again. "Yes, I'm afraid the blame should fall to me for our mishap..." she met eyes with her temperamental friend and positively beamed. "But I just couldn't hold it in; nor could I believe it the first time I was told! I'm just so ecstatic for you! And if I may say so now, since circumstances had made it escape my mind the first time...it's about _time_ , girl!" she exclaimed suddenly, pumping her fist in victory, before coming back to herself again and giving the two blonde children a timid grin, hiding her hands behind her back.

Gerald was full-on laughing at that. "Yeah, seriously...I'm still kinda in shock myself. _Helga_ _G._ _Pataki,_ man?"

"I'm sure we've been through stranger things, Gerald," Arnold rolled his eyes.

" _Whatever_ you say, Arnold," his friend laughed, nonetheless greeting him with their usual secret handshake.

" _Meanwhile_ , Phoebe, considering that adorable kiss you gave Geraldo on the cheek before we ran off, I'm guessing I'm not the _only_ one that gets a celebration for landing her boy," Helga had to point out with a rather smug grin.

At that, Phoebe couldn't control the bashful splash of red on her face. "Well, uh...I mean...I guess...thanks?" she managed to squeak out.

Still blushing nonetheless himself, Gerald still sidled up next to Phoebe and playfully nudged her. "Yeah, s'true, guess she did," he laughed with a little flirtatious smile in her direction.

Arnold had to laugh after witnessing the whole exchange. "I'm happy for you guys. You always seemed to like each other."

"Oh, Phoebe's liked _him_ for ages," Helga laughed, causing the two best friends in question to roll their eyes in embarrassment (but still manage to lock eyes with each other and smile). "I'm happy for ya too though, Pheebs. And hey, Gerald, while I'm in a good mood, there's something I gotta say."

"Oh yeah?" the boy in question crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow. "What would that be?"

She took a breath and let it out again. "I don't think I ever thanked you for your help with the whole San Lorenzo thing...and really, just being cool with Arnold and me (after all the ribbing about it on the way home)...really, just thanks for being cool in general. You're a good egg, Tall Hair Boy."

Gerald held his hands up, smiling. "'Ey, don't mention it, Helga. I know we've had our differences of opinion; but I also know you'd have my best friend's back in a second if I'm not there first. And if Arnold trusts you, then I do too. Besides, I figure I oughta be in your good graces if I'm datin' _your_ best friend, am I right?"

"Hey, Pheebs can take care of herself, it's not _my_ permission you need to date her, it's _hers_. But, you _are_ cool in my book, like I said, so I'm fine with it," Helga grinned.

At that, Phoebe nodded with a giggle. "And I must interject that I would be _quite_ accepting to the thought, Gerald."

 _Oh my GOSH, I'm gonna barf, that's too cute,_ thought Helga with a roll of her eyes as the new young couple held hands in a fashion they probably thought was inconspicuous.

"Anyway," Arnold smiled as he came up next to Helga again and also grabbed her hand, "What brings you guys here?"

"Eh, I ran into Phoebe as she was going to visit Helga, but she wasn't at home; then she had the idea that she'd have taken a walk over here, so I thought I'd entertain the idea and go with," Gerald explained, grinning at the two blonde kids. "And of _course_ , she was right. I just hope I don't keep catching you guys mid-kiss. I can only _take_ so much mush."

"No promises, Geraldo," Helga said with a grin and a sideways glance to Arnold, who only blushed and looked up innocently. "Anyway," she sighed, "Now that we're all here, are we planning on doing anything? I for one am pretty eager to get back into the swing of normal _outside the jungle_ life."

"Actually," Arnold piped up, "My family's about to have breakfast ready; why don't you join us, Helga? And you guys can too, if you're hungry."

"Hey, why not?" Gerald grinned. "Breakfasts at your house are usually pretty boss. Whaddya say, Pheebs?"

"I surmise that would be delightful; count me in," she answered brightly.

Helga chuckled. "Just to check, Arnold, but are _you_ inviting me, or did your parents say to invite me before you came out?"

Surprised that he was caught out, he shrunk down into his shoulders. "Heh, both?"

"Figured as much," Helga rolled her eyes. "Either way, sure, let's get our grub on. Then maybe we can all head to the park or something."

With murmurs of agreement between them, the four kids headed out of the backyard and back around to the front door, the pairs of them hand-in-hand...at least until they crossed the threshold of the gate, then Helga felt she had to pull her hand away self-consciously. The action only surprised Arnold a little, but he still met her eyes with a kind and understanding smile...which, for once, she returned. Anyone watching the exchange closely would have guessed that they had the same thought.

 _This will DEFINITELY be an interesting rest of my life._

It was seen as a good return to normalcy even when, as soon as Arnold opened the door, the four of them leaped as expertly as ever out of the way of another rush of pets.


	2. What If I Disappeared?

((AN: New one-shot! :3 And before I go on, I want to thank the peeps that left such lovely reviews on my first Hey Arnold! story; I'm glad to have reached the standards of In-Character that the show sets, and that everybody has enjoyed my first entry, as much as I enjoy writing them. =) I hope to keep that up, which I can only do by having fun in the process, I believe. x3 Also, like previous one-shot collections, these probably won't have a set order, but might jump around in time; this one DOES take place a few weeks or so after the previous one, though.

So, last time I said that Helga was an interesting character to play with, psychologically speaking; this is one chapter that goes into that. After having watched the episode that she references, knowing the details of her somewhat tumultuous life, I imagine that she'd still have thoughts like this from time to time, and while she's strong enough to dismiss it, perhaps every so often it would just get to her. Luckily though, she always had people to remind her that it's nothing but a thought. :3 On another note, her family very much disappoints me, but I _do_ think they have the capacity to change their tune. It was first thought that they _would_ , after all.

By the way, I never say the exact words, but this chapter _might_ be taken as tip-toeing into a dark place, by some. So, for those, yeah, fair warning.

Fun fact, while the first chapter was the first one that I thought up, this one was the first that was written, because of all the ideas dancing around, this one was the loudest. XD I'd nearly posted this one first, but the site was having submission problems, so I had written the previous chapter while waiting...and that one made it into the first slot anyway. Good thing, because this one needed to go through quite a bit of editing. ^^; Also, it's getting fun writing Arnold's parents, I have to say. x3

Enjoy! Everyone in the story belongs to Craig Bartlett. You, sir, are a genius.))

* * *

What If I Disappeared?

On a lazy Saturday afternoon that threatened to turn cloudy, Arnold Shortman had found himself passing several alleyways towards the river docks with a purposeful stride in his step. With a day that was fully planned out ahead of him, he wasn't concentrating on much of anything other than his destination; his friends were all over the place right now, and normally he would've been at a loss for something to do on such a Saturday in summer.

But at least now, he and his parents had agreed on a nice outing; and after letting them go on ahead for a moment, he wasn't to be stopped in catching up...

 _CLANG!_

...At least until that second, when suddenly he heard that metallic noise echoing towards him from across the street.

It was loud enough that he had to stop and blink for a moment, curiosity as always getting the better of him. He recognized that noise, perhaps, as someone throwing rocks at a dumpster...albeit rather forcefully. He tried to peer across the sloping road in order to make out who could be out there (and in an alley of all places) on a nice, unusually-cool summer day when every other kid was at the park, or the pool, or Dinoland, or just about anywhere else that would be outside.

But try as the boy might to look, there didn't seem to be anyone there. Even for a Saturday, the street leading to the docks was more or less quiet, only allowing the occasional car or truck to pass about every few minutes. The city sounds were starting to get further and further along behind him, and even the echoes were dying down.

Shrugging to himself, Arnold started to turn back around to his original goal at a fairly brisk pace; while he didn't really need to rush, he _wanted_ to be down there soon, where his parents said they'd be. Ever since returning home with him from San Lorenzo, most of the things they'd done so far was mostly to see what had changed in their absence (just as much as to spend time with their son, who they _more_ sorely missed).

But before he could take another couple of steps, Arnold heard another, harder _CLAN_ _G—_ this time accompanied by a _very_ familiar growl.

He couldn't help the tiny smile that came to his face. _Helga...of course,_ _why didn't I guess it'd be HER throwing rocks?_ _But...I wonder why_ _she's all the way out here_ _. She's usually always at the_ _beeper s_ _tore about now._

Deciding that the moment deserved a pause, he quickly checked the street for any more oncoming cars before rushing across to the other sidewalk and quietly walking up into the alleyway, where he could hear much more clearly.

Peering around the corner into the space, only slightly lit with the sun overhead fighting its way through the slow clouds, Arnold observed for a moment as Helga Pataki grabbed another, smoother pebble from the old, mangled gravel of the alley's end and wound her arm. When she released the rock with a loud grunt, the force of that _CLANG_ had _actually_ seemed to dent the side of the old, dirty dumpster; if only a smidgen.

"Psh...that was good, but not good enough..." she muttered, her voice taking on an angry—more angry than she even managed in her everyday attitude—and darker tone.

Arnold, having pretty much memorized the meanings of each of her tones every day since about the third grade, frowned at this and made himself known, stepping into the half-shadows. "Helga?"

"-AAH! Arnold!" she exclaimed in shock and fell over backward, the surprise of his appearance making the windup of her next throw go awry and taking her with it. "Ow! Crimeny!" she nearly cursed with gritted teeth and a tiny splash of pink on her face.

He was beside her in an instant, reaching down for her elbow to help pull her back up. "Sorry, Helga...I didn't mean to surprise you like that!"

The blonde pig-tailed girl let herself be pulled up, dusting off the edge of her pink outfit as she gave him a scowl. "You _better_ be sorry...sheesh, Football Head, are you _sure_ your grandma didn't give you Ninjutsu lessons on the side? You can't seem to _stop_ surprising me."

"Heh," he let out a chuckle and let her go once she was up, putting on a teasing grin (his way these days of fighting off her temper was simply to match it with gentle wit). "Nah...just the karate. Anyway, I'm pretty sure _you'd_ be the better ninja, all things considered, wouldn't you, Helga?"

She felt herself blush, even though she tried hard to keep up her angry pout. "Yeah, well...you should still wear a bell or something...hmph." With that, she reached down again to pick up the rock that she'd lost in the fall, and this time her throw was a little more half-hearted than anything, as the resulting _CLANG_ wasn't nearly as deafening.

Arnold watched as she took a deep breath in and out, the scowl leaving her face; she wasn't smiling (he always watched for the tiny smile she would have thrown him lately, when they were out in public together), but her voice at least was softer and more amiable. "Whatcha doing here anyway?" she inquired while looking from the edge of her vision at him.

"Wondering what _you_ were doing here, actually," he said, and bent down to pick up a rock of his own; it was actually a piece of the old, abandoned building that they had their backs to.

Helga scoffed. "Throwing rocks at a dumpster; like I often tend to do, _doi."_ She picked up another one herself and tossed upward a couple of times, as if she were pondering over the next throw. "I needed to let off some steam..." she put her hands on her hips primly, sparing at least a tiny grin. "And _despite_ my reputation, Arnoldo, I indeed _don't_ want do that by wailing on other kids."

He laughed for a second before putting on his half-lidded, almost smug look that he'd always given her, in the times when she showed even a tiny bit of the kind, caring side that he knew she possessed. "I figured as much."

Again, a tiny bit of pink crossed her face. On the outside, she looked only slightly calmer than before. On the inside, she _almost_ wanted to feel giddy and warm at that look, and his presence in general; but she was still angry enough to squash the feeling of being caught off-guard (even by _him_ ) down pretty quickly. "Eh...it's not as satisfying as striking terror into some little snot," she jokingly snorted, "But, at least I already put a buncha dents in this one."

"Yeah, I noticed; I could hear it across the street," Arnold said with a bit of an impressed tone, and wound up to pitch his own rock as if he were pitching a baseball.

His rock didn't make a dent, but the way it went _CLONG_ against the metal frame with an almost musical echo around the alleyway made Helga raise her brow and blink a little bit. "So, what happened that made you need to let off steam, if you don't mind me asking?" he inquired with his soft, ever-patient tone as he searched for another projectile.

At that, Helga growled and wound up for another throw, the rock gripped hard within the clutches of Old Betsy. "Big _Bob_ opened his big _gob,_ that's what." At the word "what", she threw it again at full force against the side of the giant container, and the _CLANG_ sounded just as angry as _she_ did, echo and all. "What else is new?"

Arnold nodded. "So then...what'd he say, exactly?" he asked and watched her curiously, playing with the pebble he found in his palm instead of throwing it.

She, however, bit her lip and looked as if she were thinking about something, before taking another long breath, in and out. "I'd rather not talk about it, if it's all the same to you, Arnold," she said with a controlled voice, like she was trying to keep the venom from creeping back into her words; though she'd gotten a lot better at holding back her random bouts of anger at anyone, and especially towards him, there was still the possibility of a short edge to go over.

He tilted his head and noticed the way she stood though, her fingers clenching and unclenching, and the way she only barely avoided looking at him. He almost figured that she might want to be left alone with her problem, as was often the case...but as was always the case for _him,_ he wasn't going to leave someone he cared so much about here in a steadily-darkening alleyway all alone, with only the dumpster and the rocks for any sort of company. After everything that had happened between them, he knew that Helga deserved more than that...and darned if he wasn't going to try to help.

With a small sigh and a shy smile, he took a step towards her, dropping his rock off to the side instead of throwing it. "Well...would you like to come to the river with me, at least?" Both hands rested behind his back. "My parents said they were gonna be there, and we were gonna see the boardwalk and everything, and I only hung back to ask Gerald if he wanted to come too...but he had other plans." He shrugged. "So, you can come, if you want...it'll be fun."

Well now...no matter what mood she was in, Helga discovered recently, that whenever he gave her such a sincere smile—with that caring look in his soulful green eyes, ever hopeful and listening as to what her opinion might be—she'd very easily lose the resolve to stay in that mood and end up actually _fighting_ to hold back the goofy smile she'd give right back.

" _Oh_ _h_ _..._ Oh, w-well..." she began with her sweet, swooning sigh, before shaking her head to regain her focus, " _Well_ , uh, sure...I mean, I _guess_ I can tag along...it beats standing around in here all day...and your parents _are_ pretty okay, too."

His eyes lit up, and he nodded with a smile, reaching for her hand. "I'd say so, but then again, I might be a bit biased seeing as I _am_ their kid."

When his hand touched hers, though, he could feel a sudden, tense shudder through her arm. Noticing this, he dropped it and gave her an apologetic smile. "S-sorry...I forgot we were kinda in public..."

For a fleeting moment, Helga wished desperately that she could just drop all of her reservations about being seen with her beloved in public by any of their classmates (those who at least didn't guess by now that they were together), and revel in the warmth of his touch. She was needing his comfort, stoic and patient and willing to hold her if she fell (especially as she'd been on all ends of a negative emotional high today).

... _Oh please, Powers That Be, allow me even just a few tender moments with my beloved, hand-in-hand by the water's edge...even knowing that I CAN_ _be with you now,_ _my Arnold,_ _fate keeps toying with my fears, forcing me away...am I so wrong to ask for even these small chances?_

But, instead, she waved him off, putting on a more reassuring tone, a smile even tugging at the edge of her lip. "I-It's fine, Arnoldo...hey, maybe none of the other kids'll be at the boardwalk. Knowing our luck that won't be the case, but, I _might_ be persuaded to be hopeful."

With her words of encouragement to satisfy him, Arnold smiled and gestured for her to go first with a small bow (to which she snickered, but took the invitation with a tiny blush all the same).

Before she got far, however, she hummed and picked up another rock. "Lemme have one more throw; you hit a pretty good note earlier, and I've _gotta_ see if I can't hit it too."

There were times Arnold found himself pleasantly surprised at how observant Helga was, even at little random things like that; proof that she seemed to have a creative _ear_ as well as a creative mind. "Heh, I didn't even know I hit a note; I just threw a rock to see if _I_ could dent it."

She smirked at him. "No offense, Head Boy, but you throw kinda like a..." she stopped herself before she said the world "girl", as she could very well _feel_ the weight of the irony about not exactly being "girly" herself. "Well, you never get angry enough to throw that hard...mostly."

With another hum, she scrutinized the dumpster and weighed the rock in her hand before she drew back her arm and wound up. With a grunt, she let it fly...

...And it promptly hit the very hard edge of the top with a _PL_ _ING_ _,_ ricocheted off and way up over their heads, and shattered a window.

The two kids winced, and then Helga snatched his wrist. "Okay that's enough let's get a move-on," she rattled off in one breath as she ran at full-tilt, dragging a surprised football-head along until he could match her pace.

Thankfully though, that building was one condemned long ago, so neither of them (even Arnold with his usual conscience) had the care to stay and apologize to somebody. Their running pace quickly turned into a brisk jog, and then finally a calm walk; at which point, a self-conscious Helga released her out-of-breath (and laughing) boyfriend's arm.

Once out onto the sidewalk, now feeling the sunlight as it slipped in and out of the cloud cover above, Helga breathed the slightly-clearer air to get rid of the musty alley smell that had clogged her nostrils. She all at once felt a little better, her hands going behind her back as the wide-headed boy came into a walk next to her. "Anyway," she said to break the awkward quiet, "This is a nice day. I could've had _better_ things to do, but Phoebe ducked out on me too, today, so I was on my own."

Suddenly, she had to let out a little cackle. "Hey, Football Head; you think that maybe our best friends ditched us today to do something with _each other_?"

He couldn't help but laugh along. "I'll bet they are. Phoebe seems happy when she's with Gerald, and I _know_ he feels the same."

"Oh yeah, same with Pheebs," she snickered. "Those two are adorable. Wanna tease 'em mercilessly about it later?" she asked with a smirk.

Arnold snorted a laugh, but tried to give her a bit of a stern look. "Helga..."

"Ahhh, I'm only kidding," she playfully scoffed. "I could never tease Geraldo, _much,_ considering everything _._ But a little good-natured ribbing never hurt anyone."

"Whatever you say, Helga."

* * *

The day had gotten a little warmer by the time they reached the river; the sun was reflecting in bright, dappled waves across the mildly-clear surface, and the smell of the water on the wind easily engulfed them once they'd set foot onto the active boardwalk. The river was always a perfectly calm, albeit sometimes-mysterious place, and it was silently agreed between the two kids that it was just a good place to wait out a bad mood.

As was predicted, the stalls were all getting plenty of business; but while walking along, they for once hadn't actually spied any of their classmates. Mostly there were adults with younger kids having their family outings, and small gaggles of middle-to-high-schoolers just milling around eating or talking.

And so, just when Helga was _actually_ starting to feel confident enough to hold Arnold's hand again, she glanced down to notice that he was frowning, looking somewhat uncertain as he looked back and forth and around the groups of adults, even so far as to stand on his toes. "Huh. Mom and Dad said they'd be here somewhere..."

A small pang went through Helga's heart, hearing the concern in his voice. Through the trip back from San Lorenzo, and indeed all of summer so far, Arnold and his parents were barely ever separated; and who could ever blame them, after what they'd been through? She could only just understand how it would have felt for him to even be _away_ from them for even a few moments, when he was expecting them to be there. He'd told her in confidence that he still had dreams of _never_ finding them, or having them disappear when they were right in his grasp.

"Hey, relax, Football Head," she said, placing her hand on his shoulder. He turned to Helga to see the immediate sincerity in her eyes. "If they _said_ they'd be here, then they'll _be_ here. They probably got caught up in exploring the place, like you said they did when you guys went to the aquarium a week ago."

Remembering that, Arnold had to chuckle (his parents couldn't agree on which exhibits to see first, and so rushing through the place, they were barely able to see _anything_ until Arnold calmed them down enough to just take everything in, and he ended up showing them around himself). "I guess you're right."

"'Course I am...hey, unless I have them all wrong, they care the _world_ about you. So they're not gonna leave ya hanging." At that point, she discreetly let her hand move down to take his in a light grasp. "Guaranteed."

Feeling Helga's hand in his, he felt a giddy warmth pass through him, and his smile grew. _She probably also means herself, too. She always did somehow make me feel better sometimes...even before I knew about how she felt. I wish she trusted herself as much as I trust her._

Arnold turned his palm so that their fingers intertwined and gave them a squeeze back, to which he could see her cheeks turn slightly red. "I know it. Thanks, Helga."

"Aw...well, y'know...don't worry about it," she waved her free hand dismissively and whipped her face around to hide the blush; but her other hand, to his delight, didn't leave his. " _I'm_ supposed to be the ticked-off one today, so I couldn't let _you_ get all mopey on me too. Anyway, c'mon; let's spoil our dinner and get some corn dogs. I'm starvin' here."

And so that's how the two of them spent a few more moments, looking around at the food stalls but unwilling to get to any games just yet (Arnold had still wanted to wait until they were all together). Once they'd indeed settled on some snacks, they went to sit at the end of one of the docks, one which had the least amount of people standing around on it, and the least amount of boat noises nearby (Though they could still see the grizzled form of Sheena's uncle Earl boating people around for a small sum).

Except for a few exchanged words of small talk around their food, Arnold and Helga sat in mostly thoughtful quiet, shoulder-to-shoulder, with the magnificent and strange beauty of Elk Island looming out of the river in the distance. The sun passed slowly overhead, making everything pleasantly warm with a breeze as the clouds rolled in again.

But, while the atmosphere had helped to dissipate Helga's oppressing temper from earlier, it still allowed for her brain to rush through the event that caused it, plus a few more incidents from the distant past, culminating into a sad thought that was gnawing relentlessly at the back of her skull. Despite those thoughts, she still tried to find better things to focus on...like the fact that she was sitting in comfortable silence with _Arnold_ , _her_ _Arnold_ , mostly alone and together with the beauty of the water before them, allowing one of her countless wishes with him to come true.

And on his side, Arnold was wondering exactly how to go about asking the girl next to him, who loved him to depths that he couldn't yet fathom, and whose warm hand he still held without feeling a trace of firm anger in her touch anymore, what exactly had been bugging her so badly today; and without having her explode at him. It was for certain that she wasn't going to change her habits overnight...sometimes he still saw her as a ticking explosive that would go off only if the wrong buttons were pushed...those buttons being the topic of her family, mostly.

Of course, he also knew she'd come around, like she always did, in solemn confidence that he would always listen and never judge. Mostly, trying to form a question for her was just a distraction for his own rushing mind, to keep it from playing his worries about his parents and their whereabouts back to him for every second that passed. Having Helga for company was good for that too; while she didn't exude optimism, her realistic grasp on the world was forthright, and she never seemed to let anything get her too far down. She was a grounding force for him, as much as _he_ was for practically everyone else.

The two of them glanced at each other simultaneously, all of a sudden, as if getting the same idea to just observe the other in their mutual quiet; the action just made them both blush and look away again, albeit with tiny, secret grins, as they both squeezed their joined hands.

Arnold then heard Helga let out a sigh as she flipped her finished corn dog stick into the air behind her, aiming for the trash can and having it end up expertly caught in the beak of a gull instead. "So, Arnold...got a stupid question for ya."

He looked back at her, smiling as he tossed his own finished food away. "What is it, Helga?"

Her free hand rubbed at the back of her neck as she kept her gaze to the water. "This may sound random, but, trust me, it's gonna connect with the thing I was so mad about earlier." Her eyes closed. "Do you remember _way_ back when you were trying to put on a magic show for everybody?"

Arnold snickered. "Yeah, that _was_ kinda silly. I wish I could've practiced those tricks better."

"Or practiced better tricks," Helga muttered, cleared her throat, and started again. "Well, you know how you 'made me disappear' for like...ages?"

"It was more like twenty minutes or so than it was 'ages' I think," he grinned and mimicked her air quotes. "But, yeah. I kinda figured later that you probably did that on purpose just to bug me."

"Right..." she bit her tongue against a sarcastic remark. _Focus on just talking to him, and NICELY, for Pete's sake!_ "Well, it started off like that...but I never told you that as I was reveling in my at-the-time brilliant plan of torturing you, I hit a light pole and knocked myself unconscious. And ended up having a...pretty whacked-out dream in the middle of it."

His eyes were suddenly wide with surprised concern. "Knocked unconscious...? Helga, how come you never said anything? You could've had a...a concussion, or something...!"

"Easy, _easy_ there, y'big worrywart, it was back a couple years ago, remember?" she held up her hands. "I'm _fine!_ And I was _then_ too, okay? I wanna get back to the story, here!"

Arnold held up his own hands complacently. "Okay, Helga, I believe you, I'm sorry. Please, continue."

She nodded and did so with a sigh. "Anyway, so I had a crazy dream while I was out cold. I was awake and in our normal city and neighborhood and school...except... _I_ wasn't there. I was walking around, but nobody could see or hear me...because in this bizarro alternate universe, you were successful in making me disappear. And everyone, everywhere, in the entire city was... _happy._ Happy that I was gone. Phoebe forgot my name completely...my parents didn't have _any_ problems...there were parade floats celebrating my absence, and _you_..."

Helga paused to take in the increasingly-worried look in Arnold's eyes, and she decided to go for some humor in this last observation. She smirked. "Well, being the magician that did it, _you_ were incredibly famous and had announced on a talk show that you were gonna marry _Ruth McDougal."_

"Pff!" Arnold immediately scoffed, trying and failing not to let out a laugh. "Oh, c'mon..."

" _Toldja_ it was bizarre," Helga snorted. Then, after a moment, her mouth went back to its previous thoughtful frown, and she crossed her arms. "But, yeah...that's why, after I woke up, I acted all suddenly incredibly nice for...well, all but a few minutes."

"I _did_ find that a _little_ strange, yeah," Arnold nodded, his eyes rolled up as he tried to remember everything. "But, honestly, I guess I didn't really try to think about it. I was wondering how in the world it finally worked." His eyes looked back into Helga's. "So...why'd you remember all that?"

She looked away again and leaned back on her hands, her feet kicking idly below her. "Well, even though I dismissed it all as a crazy dream...I still remember every bit of everything I saw, and how I felt...and when I'd woken up that day, I had come to the thought that...maybe...it was all true. That maybe everyone _would_ be better off without me, or would come to act like that if I just wasn't so darn _nasty_ all the time...there were times after that, especially after some times I'd yelled at you, where the thought would surface.

"...And then of course I'd say, 'pff, yeah, right, how stupid is that?' and move on. But just, very seldom, just _very seldom..._ that thought _still_ comes back to me...what would happen if I just...disappeared. It happened today...which is why I was angry..."

She paused to feel Arnold place a concerned hand onto her arm, and when she looked at him again, he nodded for her to continue, his gaze as always focused, patient, listening, and _caring._

Helga, finding her words and picking up strength, continued. "It started off as the normal kind of stupid day...my dad was chiding me about having to stay at the beeper store to help. 'What kind of important things would you have to do all day anyway, Olga?' he'd ask, to which I'd respond, 'It's _Helga,_ Dad,' to which as always he'd just go, 'Whatever; point is, you have to try and make yourself more _useful_ around here.'"

She snorted and started punching her palm with every harsh word. "Right, _Dad_...it's not like you have _other_ family members to boss around, whose names you _do_ remember, while I'm just trying to focus on being a _kid,_ and will have to focus on _school_ as Sixth Grade is right there around the corner, and a freaking _social life_ , or a _life_ in general...nooooo, trying in vain to sell all your outdated beepers to keep _your_ store alive, that's all I'm good for, _right?_ " She sneered. "I didn't tell him _all_ that, but I did keep some key points...and you know what he says to me?"

Her fists slammed to either side of her on the dock in rage. "He says to me, 'there, now _that's_ the spirit'!" She growled loudly. " _Seriously?_ Was he even actually _listening_ to himself when he said that? He pretty much all-but-confirmed to me that keeping me around for menial labor is all I'm _good for!_ 'Make yourself useful'? I'm _just useless to him, is THAT IT?_ "

Arnold winced at the sudden spike in volume and pitch her voice had gotten, as her hands dug deeply into the edge of the dock and her teeth started to grind together. He was about to gently remind her to breathe, when she seemed to remember herself. Inhaling and exhaling shakily, her grip didn't relinquish on the old wood of the dock beneath her, but her voice had come back to a manageable volume.

"And of _course,_ Miriam didn't hear a word of it, being passed out on the couch like _always..._ Olga was the only one who looked the least bit surprised...she might've been trying to stop me, but I was already stomping out the door. The rest is history...the alley is where you found me, taking out my anger on a dumpster...anger at _Bob_ , anger at _life..._ "

Arnold could barely see a shudder pass through her. "...Anger at _me,_ for letting that word, _useless_ , bring back the memory of that dream, and those thoughts...only making me _more_ mad, that they were gnawing at me again. Of _course_ I think it's stupid, _stupid_ to let it get to me, that I'm forced to even acknowledge it...but...it's still _there_ , just that one little question: What if I disappeared?"

For a few moments, silence reigned again, as Helga let her eyes just fall onto the hypnotizing light on the surface of the water. She could _feel_ Arnold watching her, no doubt with concerned eyes, but she didn't have it in her yet to meet them again. It was always a little exhausting (but also very cathartic) to spill her guts, and especially to the Advice Giver of their grade, whether now or before they were a couple.

But, finally, she felt him take her hand again, this time to grasp it in both of his own. "Well, for what it's worth...that _did_ sound like a very outlandish dream you had. I mean...there are _plenty_ of people who'd be devastated if you just disappeared. And I'm sure you know that."

" _Knowing_ it is one thing," she murmured, trying to keep down the urge to pull her hand out of his warm hold; Helga felt like it was the only thing holding her up right now. " _Believing_ it is another thing entirely."

"Well, you _should_ believe it, Helga," he said earnestly, and warmly. "Think of Phoebe; she's been your best friend almost as long as Gerald's been mine. She wouldn't just _forget_ you, she'd be crushed. And, I know your family's pretty rough around the edges..."

She scoffed loudly, but said nothing, and glanced at him instead while he continued.

"... _Alot_ rough around the edges...but they _do_ still care about you. Remember that Thanksgiving when we both ran away from home? I thought I heard your mom on the phone to the police about you, through the door. And your dad was about to go out looking...and he also _instantly_ felt guilty about how he was about to hurt you when he thought you were the alien leader, that Halloween; I think that was the closest I've ever seen him about to cry! And there have been other moments, with both of your parents, that you'd gotten closer to them, if I remember."

She sighed, her eyes rolling upward to the silvery clouds. "Yeah, that's all true...but here's the thing about my family, Arnold...they never _learn_. No matter what I say. Dad's always going to be a big, short-sighted blowhard. Mom's always gonna be a...well, completely out of it. Olga's always gonna be focused on being so _annoyingly happy_ that she barely notices anything's wrong...I've hoped for things to change before, and I've been disappointed. So, sorry to burst that optimistic bubble of yours, but I don't think I can go on much longer _hoping._ "

Arnold sighed sadly, edging closer to her so that they were touching side-to-side once again. "I don't ever want you to lose hope, Helga...I think deep down, _you_ don't want to, either. There's always a chance, somewhere down the line, that they'll bounce back and realize how they've made you feel; especially if you keep letting them know. But I hope you know that you can always get through it, as you always have. You're smart, and brave, and strong. And you have people to talk to, and your friends...you have our classmates—who, by the way, _would_ miss you too—and there's always everyone in _my_ family. Trust me. You have more than enough of a reason _not_ to disappear."

Helga, who indeed _knew_ all of this in the depths of her heart, couldn't help but feel ever more assured in the wake of Arnold's words. They always seemed like _more_ than the truth whenever he said them: they were _law,_ unshakable and impossible to deny, and so had broken through her years of built-up doubt; not completely, but forcefully enough.

She tried to hold back from releasing a few truly-touched tears that had begun to well up in her eyelids. "So... _you_ wouldn't want me to disappear either, huh, Football Head?"

Arnold looked surprised for a moment, immediately shaking his head. "Of course not!"

Helga had to quirk her lip at that, but her look had gotten serious again. "Even after everything I've put you through? The bullying, the name-calling, torturing and embarrassing you on a regular basis...after all of that, you'd still want me around?" She looked away from his eyes, trying to avoid seeing his reaction to the fact. "I don't know if _I_ would want me around."

He took that in for all but a few seconds before releasing her hand and throwing his arms around her for one of his tight and fervent hugs that seemed reserved for her alone. Even now that they were well and truly together, Helga never expected when he did that, and she was always left with a warm tingle everywhere.

"You even have to ask?" he inquired into her shoulder, and she could hear his smile. "I told you, Helga; I've always known that you had good inside of you. I'd never wish that on you, or anyone for that matter. And besides...I would think that the whole 'getting to San Lorenzo and helping me find and save my parents' thing makes up for all of that; wouldn't you?"

In the wake of the love she felt right then, she sighed with pure bliss and allowed the embrace to continue, before she came back to herself with a nervous laugh and pried him off. "Okay, okay, I get it..." Blushing rather brightly, she still met his smile with a small one of her own. "But, thanks, Arnold...I guess I really needed that talk. And I... _guess_ I'm glad you happened to be walking by that alley today."

"And _I_ guess I'm glad I stopped when I heard you," he said with a teasing chuckle and leaned against her side again, re-entwining the fingers of his hand with hers.

Feeling uncannily peaceful in the wake of that emotional outpouring, Helga slumped more against him so that they were holding each other up, nigh-on cuddling, their gazes cast back out to the river again.

"...You really think the rest of the _class_ would miss me too, though?" She asked after a moment, resting her head within his darker gold hair. "I've heard some of the reservations that some of them have about me. I don't exactly prove myself a regular paragon of kindness at all hours of the day."

"Yeah, I really think they would," he matter-of-factually stated. "You're a bit abrasive, yeah, but everyone listens to you; you're a leader, and the first to stand up when needed. A good coach, a good umpire, a good schemer..." he snickered. "You've been a presence in everyone's lives ever since preschool. I think we'd all notice that something big was missing, if _you_ were."

Helga snorted and rolled her eyes, but felt her heart beating a jackhammer in her chest. _Will your kind words never cease to make my hopeful spirit soar, my love...?_

"I-If you say so, Arnoldo," she said, trying to keep her tendency to monologue in her head for now. "That's a good point, though; if I weren't around, who'd whip you losers into shape? Can't let you all step outta line, now can I?"

He had to laugh at that, turning his head to sneak a peck on her cheek. "Exactly."

Blushing brightly, Helga tried to turn her giggle into a snicker and dropped her chin where his hat was on his head. "Quit flirting, you goof." _Except, please keep it up..._

"You quit being cute."

He felt her scoff. "Am _not._ "

"Are too."

She rolled her eyes and nudged him playfully. "Am _not_ , and that's that," she commanded, though her tone was less than serious, sending them both into mirthful laughter.

 _Are too,_ Arnold still mentally projected, his grin unfaltering.

With that, the two of them fell again into another contemplative silence, this time of how lucky they were to just be _there_ , together and alive in the embrace of a cool breeze on a summer day, and in that of each other, giving occasional hand-squeezes.

After a few moments in their private reverie, however, a familiar pair of voices rang out from behind them.

"Oh, there he is!"

"Hey, Arnold!"

The two kids jerked up quickly (Helga mostly because she was still _very not used_ to being caught by surprise in showing affection towards her beloved), and Arnold was instantly up and running toward where Miles and Stella Shortman stood, their arms open and waiting for him to fall into them.

"Mom, Dad, you _are_ here!" Arnold exclaimed with excited relief within their hug, "We've been looking all over for you!"

"Oh, don't worry, sweetie...we were right here on the boardwalk, also looking for _you._ We just got kinda..." Stella rolled her eyes toward her husband, " _sidetracked_ again."

Miles grinned nervously. "Sorry; I couldn't help it. I _had_ to find out everything that might've changed about the old river boardwalk since we left. It's so surreal; almost _nothing's_ changed. Maybe some new games were added, but..."

"But we _should_ have stuck around to wait for you, like we said we would, Arnold," his mother said with a kind smile, ruffling his unruly hair. "But, at least this place isn't too big. I hope you weren't very worried."

The young boy chuckled. "Not _too_ worried. I knew you'd be around...besides, I ran into Helga on the way, and we kinda decided to hang out together and wait."

It was then that his parents both looked up to see Helga standing a bit awkwardly, having been watching the whole reunion from a bit of a distance so that she wouldn't be in their way (it tended to _be_ somewhat awkward for her to be around his parents; not so much because they'd come upon her _kissing_ their son...but mostly because she felt that they, of all adults she knew, had seemed to deserve a lot of respect. She couldn't afford to lose _their_ first impression, the people that gave life to the most important person in her existence...so around them, she was at her utmost trying _not_ to be her razor-edged self).

At the sight of her, they broke into kind and welcoming smiles. "Oh, hello, Helga!" Stella waved. "Nice to see you!"

Miles nodded in agreement, then sent his son a sideways grin and elbowed him. "We didn't interrupt anything, did we?"

Both of the kids were suddenly wearing equally-red blushes at that. "Uh, n-not really!" Arnold backpedaled. "We were just...um..."

"S-sitting and talking and watching the water, pretty much...heheh..." Helga broke in, trying to move the awkwardness along. "Glad to see you didn't get lost, Mr. and Mrs. Shortman..."

Arnold's father let out a friendly laugh. "Helga, we told you, 'Mr. and Mrs. Shortman' are my parents. You can just call us Miles and Stella. Or either of us 'Doc Shortman', if you prefer..."

Everyone had a bit of a laugh, remembering the alternate nickname that Gerald had come up with for addressing both of them, since technically they _were_ scientists and all. But for Helga, the thought of calling _them_ by their first names would always be rather foreign; to her memory, the only adults with whom she'd ever done that were adults that she _didn't_ have much respect for: like her own parents.

"Y-yeah, I remember," she nodded, "Thanks, Mr.-er, Miles. And, uhm, yeah...always happy to keep Arnold company. He was kinda keeping _me_ company too."

The parents watched as their son gave Helga a fond smile and went over to take her by the hand again. They'd somewhat instantly liked Helga when they met her, and especially after they were told the whole story of their adventure; that she'd had a hand in not only keeping their long-lost boy safe from La Sombra, but also in saving their lives and the lives of an entire culture of people. They could tell why she'd be special to him...and at least Miles (being the hopeless romantic that he was) knew a lasting love when he saw one.

"Well, why don't you come with us too?" Stella invited with a smile. "We'd be happy to have you along. I noticed that Gerald didn't come after all, though?"

"He said maybe next time," Arnold reassured. "We've all been to the river and boardwalk...I'm just happy to get to show it to you guys again too." He turned back to Helga with a hopeful smile. "You wanna stay?"

Helga couldn't remember a time when she felt so _welcome,_ and in the presence of _any_ of her friends' families. They all knew her as the angry kid, the bully, and the somewhat-bad-influence. But even Arnold's _grandparents_ had of late been amiable and upbeat when she was around; his whole immediate family was just pure and personified _hope_ , as was the best way she could describe it. _Your eternally kind and radiant soul had to come from somewhere, I suppose, my prince._

She allowed herself a calm smile and squeezed his hand back (she never did feel so ashamed of her feelings when around adults; just the thought of the other kids knowing, however...). "Yeah, sure...why not? I'm free as a bird, Footb—A-Arnold." _DON'T call him that in front of his parents, whatever you do...!_

With that, the four of them started down along the boardwalk, bypassing what Miles and Stella had already found themselves, in favor of nice tour along the game stalls and the bank of the water. Listening to their conversation, and sometimes adding in a few words, Helga was beginning to forget why she was so angry today...and she didn't want to think about it at _all_ , at least until later when she'd have to face her family at home.

 _Pff...they can say whatever the heck they want,_ she thought with finality, focusing back to her feelings in the here and now, hand-in-hand with Arnold and having a truly good time with his parents along. _I'm not letting it get to me again._ I _can at least learn to change._ _I s_ _till am._

"I have an idea," said Miles, which brought Helga out of her thoughts and back into the conversation, which she half-remembered was about places that the older man had visited often back in his youth around the neighborhood. "We could take a boat to Elk Island and go exploring."

"Oh, you and your sense of adventure..." Stella snorted. "Aren't there just a bunch of old caves there, though?"

Her husband had a mischievous grin. "Yeah...but did you know that they're _haunted?_ "

They stopped, and the kids held snickers as her eyes went wide. "Haunted?" She quirked an eyebrow. "Seriously?"

Miles nodded, enthusiastic. "Yeah! By the ghost of Wheezin' Ed, a feared gangster from back in the 20's. Am I right, son? You had to have heard about it; it's one of the most well-known legends in the city."

Arnold laughed. "Yeah; Gerald told us the story of the haunted caves. There's supposed to be a treasure there."

"Except, lest you forget, Arnold," Helga piped in and pointed for emphasis, "You and me and the other kids all went there and _disproved_ it."

Stella could be heard laughing as Miles let out a disappointed "aw, what?"

Arnold shook his head, laughing, "Yeah, I remember us going there; but I also remember only finding that there was no _treasure_. Just because we didn't encounter a _ghost_ doesn't mean it's not haunted."

"Oh, please!" Helga scoffed. "I only believe in _facts_ and _logic_ , bucko. And there _was_ no treasure, and there _was_ no ghost. End of story. There _are_ a bunch of creepy, awesome caves there, yeah, but...that's it."

"Helga, come on," Arnold sighed. "You've seen _plenty_ of unexplained things happen; the Green-Eyes 'mojo', remember...and a few of the legends _are_ real. I say that some things aren't _meant_ to be explained, just respected."

Miles had to laugh as he ruffled his son's hair. "Making the impossible possible. See, I keep telling you Arnold, you're a chip off the old block."

"S'what Grandpa says too," his eyes rolled playfully.

Stella sighed and winked at Helga. "Don't worry, I'm on _your_ side about the haunted caves. But, you still can't deny, some things are just...miraculous. I've come to believe that, too."

At that, the parents and Arnold all exchanged glances. Helga could only guess at the full side of the story between the Shortmans, but from what she'd seen back in San Lorenzo, and how they'd—indeed, inexplicably—just stayed in a coma for years in a city far from civilization...

 _Well...okay, yeah...sometimes, miracles are miracles...and I'm glad that I could make his come true._

 _Who knows...maybe I'll have one too_. She smiled at the thought. _Yeah...maybe when his pig learns to fly._


	3. Poetic Irony

((AN: And, new story! Hope I didn't keep anyone on the edge of their seat waiting, heh; I was fighting off a cold while doing this one. x3 Which also turned out to be a bit longer than I expected...I thought it was going to be a short idea, and the words for another Arnold/Helga talk, with another good look at what goes on in her psyche and the reasons for her actions (and good GRIEF I love how deep this show is, or at least how subtext is easily made), all just spilled out of my head and onto about 17-and-a-half pages. Heh, but I imagine nobody'll complain much about more Shortaki moments...and thanks again everyone who reads and comments, it's all much appreciated. =)

So, I'm certain that the ideas with Helga revealing some of the secrets she keeps from Arnold have all been done to death; but, what's kinda fun for me to read are the different ways that people come up with on how they play out. So, this is just one idea of mine, and I tried to make it fun, at least. x3 I'm liking writing some of the other kids, too. I must also point out that I'm definitely not a poet...I've done poetry before, and it's fun, but prose flows more easily with me. So if I write Helga's poetry, it's gonna come with a writer's block excuse. XD Which is plausible enough anyway.

Also, if anyone's wondering about Helga's throwaway reference to the Jimmy Hoffa mystery (name changed like names usually are in the show), she's pretty smart, and I imagine she likes to gather trivia along those lines. It was a random joke that came to me that couldn't be left out. xP

So, I hope this is enjoyed. =) I'll definitely try to work on new ideas for stories, but I must also warn that I'm about to start a story that a friend has commissioned from me (yes, people can commission stories from me; no, I won't be paid to finish my own, don't ask, LOL x3), so that'll delay the writing muse a little. But I'm still always here. :3

The world of Hillwood belongs to Craig Bartlett, forever and always.))

* * *

Poetic Irony

It was a pretty warm summer day that seemed to engulf all of Hillwood one Wednesday with a lazy and listless atmosphere; it was almost as if the world was telling people not to exert themselves with being outside for too long, but to stay in the shade or in the air-conditioned comfort of whatever building was within reach. It didn't come close to the heat wave that had struck with unnatural ferocity when the kids were nearing the fourth grade; but it warned that such a day would probably come later on in the week.

At least the sun was starting to head out of its zenith, and the shadows from the buildings and the trees in the park were starting to lengthen. It was under the shade of one such tree that Helga Pataki had been reclining for about a half-hour in solitude, letting what words she could conjure from her mind fall onto the pages of her latest notebook.

Ever since her family had to move out of their home to live out of the store, among the many problems she'd kept inside about it was the fact that she might not have enough cash on hand anymore to restock her writing supplies; or, for that matter, have much time in the day to write at all while stuck with her family most of the time. It was one of the few things that made her actually _look forward_ to school starting up again: if there was time in the class to tune out, she could fill that space with the thoughtful scratching of pen to paper.

Thankfully, she'd been able to save up to nab a small green book for another volume of poetry or free-form journalism...next time, she reminded herself, she'd also have to nab a new pen instead of constantly borrowing Phoebe's (her best friend was, as always, willing to help with any of Helga's endeavors come what may, but one thing Helga _never_ wanted to be again was overly-dependent on said help).

With the book now open to a new blank page on her lap, Helga let herself become engrossed in the quiet of the park, the vague rustle of the leaves above, and the faraway sounds of the city and mutterings of passerby, just enjoying the little bit of what she could grab of time before dinner. The ink met the page in a new verse that she pulled, as always, out of the most secretive and treasured reaches of her heart.

 _"..._ _And in the most tender of gazes, and most thoughtful of smiles,_

 _He would spin his truthful praises, and my heart races for miles,_

 _My dreams, in comparison they pale,_

 _To reality, forever the strangest tale,_

 _And to him, my greatest love, my heart shall not fail..._

"...Hrm," Helga stopped her reading with a thoughtful grimace at her work, and then sighed, tearing her sight up towards the sky again. "I must be in a funk. I used to have words just hit me out of the blue whenever I sat and pined about my muse, and now I'm kinda struggling..."

She put down her pen for a moment to take out her locket and quickly glimpse her beloved's smiling face, though it was still a constant reminder that she _needed_ a new picture so that she wouldn't have to stare at the one she had ripped in a fit of anger and despair, now seemingly all so long ago on a river boat in the dead of night. "My Arnold...could it be because I no longer _have_ to pine? That my words no longer come out of desperation and loneliness? For so long my driving force was my constant waiting for even a tiny moment, a _glimpse_ of a smile just for me, a kind word...now to my everyday bliss, I _have_ your willing and faithful care...I have a new driving force, a _requited_ love—well, _like_ -like, even just _that_ is music to my ears after so long—but my inner poet, alas, seems to be eluding me."

With a hum, she replaced her secret trinket and peered down at the pages. "It's still a good start...I dunno, it's probably because I haven't _tried_ writing in a long time, too. Writer's Block...pft...more like Writer's Freakin' Brick Wall..."

After a second, she opened her notebook to try another verse...but as she was lost in her mind, digging out the words that she _knew_ were there, she was very much unaware of her surroundings. And thus, unaware of the sounds of raucous shouting and playing from the familiar voices of the other kids coming closer.

She still didn't notice when they then became utterly and starkly quiet.

Didn't notice, that is, until after a moment the weight of something on the tree branches above made them rustle _much_ louder than usual.

Helga instantly closed the book and turned to glance up. "Hey, what's-?"

 _SPL_ _OO_ _SH!_

Far too late to even dodge, her face (and much of the rest of her) was promptly met with the full force of a dropped water balloon.

"HEY!" She gasped and spat, shaking her head free of droplets as she instantly stood from her spot and glared up into the shady boughs, fists shaking. "Who's the wise guy? _Show yourself,_ geekbait!"

What she was met with was Harold's familiar mocking laughter. "Hey, guys, look! I got _Hel-ga!_ "

And nearby, as always, Sid and Stinky had been hiding and spectating the whole thing; or orchestrating it, considering the box of water balloons between them. But while the latter was laughing along with the sneaky prank, the former had on a look of utter terror.

 _"_ _Harold,_ are you _nuts?"_ Sid called up, "She's gonna _kill_ you!"

"That was a danged good shot, Harold!" Stinky was practically doubled over laughing, "Now yer gonna git it!"

"Oh, like I'm scared; it was just a water balloon, and we said we were gonna hit _every_ kid in the park!" the portly kid shot back. "Besides, I'm up _here,_ what's _she_ gonna do?"

"Uh, _hello!"_ Helga growled, " _I_ can climb trees, too!" In demonstration, she hopped up to snatch the lowest branch, catching her feet on the trunk. "And I'm gonna _throw you out of it_ for that, Pink Boy!"

At that, the same look of terror crossed Harold's face, and he yelped. "Aah! Don't you come any closer, I got more ammunition!" he threatened, only to pause and notice that he was, in fact, empty-handed. His head whipped toward his cohorts. "Guys! Get me some more of those balloons!"

The two of them, however, had taken a couple of steps back. "Ah, sorry man, you're on your own, I ain't messing with Helga," Sid said with a shaky grimace.

"'Specially when she's mad as a wet cat," Stinky added with a snort.

" _And you two maggots are next!"_ the girl in question roared as they ran off, leaving Harold to practically fall out of the tree after them, the troublemakers both laughing and screaming in terror as they barely escaped her clutches.

Helga simply let out a loud growl after them as they ran, before an annoyed sigh escaped. "Crimeny...I thought those guys would've at least grown up a _little_ by now." After a second, she slumped. "Ah, but I forget, boys practically _never_ grow up. I'll just have to get those idiots back later." She cracked her knuckles. "And they _know_ I will."

Shaking her head, she picked up her book and looked it over. "At least _this_ didn't get wet; just a few drops, but it's a hardcover," she muttered and tucked it under her arm as she took the incentive to get out of the now-damp soil at the foot of the tree and make for a nearby bench.

Practically falling on the wooden seat, Helga groaned, dropping the book next to her as she leaned back and turned her face toward the sky, eyes closed as she tried to let the warm sun dry the water in her hair and clothes.

 _Sheesh, I hate interruptions. Stupid Harold, stupid Stinky, stupid Sid...n_ _othing else better happen today, or so help me, there'll be heck to pay..._

But, of course, Helga would come to regret that thought, as maybe a moment or two passed before she suddenly felt a pair of hands covering her still-closed eyes.

"Guess who?" said a familiar grinning voice, the owner of which she would have easily recognized if she weren't still in a very tense mode...which all at once snapped.

"GRRR!"

"WHOA!"

"WaitwaitWAIT HOLD ON...!"

Three voices, almost in unison and raised for different reasons, went off in that exact order as Helga whirled around on the bench, her fist swinging forward with the intent to catch the interloper in the face...only for it to be caught with the equally-hard force of Arnold's palm. Gerald, next to him, had jumped back about a foot, cringing and waiting for a blow that never came.

There were a couple of breaths taken before Helga came back to herself, her face falling immediately from a snarling scowl into a wide-eyed state of shock. " _Arnold?_ " She withdrew her fist quickly and slumped back on the bench. "Are you _crazy?_ I almost socked you, Football Head! What're you doing sneaking up on me?" Then, she blinked, looking a mix of a little guilty and a little concerned. "I _didn't_ hurt you, did I?"

Arnold let out a breath of his own and rubbed his palm, giving her a patient smile. "Nah, I caught it. Sorry, I guess I shouldn't have snuck up on you."

"You _think_ , man?" Gerald shook his head, more amused than anything. "I _warned_ you, _nobody_ dares to 'guess-who' Helga. Nobody except _you_ , now, that is."

The girl in question let out a laugh with her self-deprecating sigh. "Compromise; only _you_ can 'guess-who' me, _ever_ , Arnold; so, then next time I'll just know it's you."

"Doesn't that defeat the purpose of 'Guess Who' in the first place?" Gerald incredulously asked.

"How 'bout you _zip it_ before I..." Helga snapped, then interrupted herself before taking in a long breath. "Sorry about that, kinda on edge right now."

"So what _else_ is new?" Gerald deadpanned.

"Oh, _can it,_ Hair Boy," she bit back, albeit a little more calmly. "What's goin' on with you guys, anyway?"

Gerald shrugged. "You tell _us..._ we heard some kinda ruckus goin' on in the park...then my man here spotted you and _had_ to sneak on over," he smirked.

Arnold rolled his eyes and nudged his friend, before turning his eyes back to his girlfriend in slight confusion. It was only now that he noticed how her hair was drooping, and that he'd gotten a few droplets of water on him from her outburst. "Helga, you're soaked...what happened?"

"Trying a new look," she quipped, her brow furrowing in annoyance, "I got hit with a water balloon, _doi._ A certain 'trouble trio' of our friends is going around nailing every kid that wanders into the park..." her eyes suddenly widened. "Speaking of which, you two should probably beat it before..."

But Helga had no time to finish her sentence when, as if called into existence by their mention alone, several water balloons were flung at high velocity from the bushes.

 _SPLOOSHSPLOOSHSPLOOSH_ _SPLOOSH_ _!_

There had been no dodging the attack; one by one in rapid succession, one of each struck squarely into the boys' faces, backs, and stomachs, dropping the both of them into the grass with surprised grunts and making Helga duck and cover under the bench...though still getting hit with some of the backlash herself in the process.

"Uggh..."

"Awww _man,_ not the _hair...!_ "

When the attacks stopped, the trio responsible once again showed themselves, their laughter prefacing their appearances. "Haha! Now we got Arnold and Gerald!" Sid crowed, practically doubled over.

"Wilikers, I reckon this was the best idea we ever had! We're prob'ly gonna get a world record for water bombs!" Stinky was snorting.

"Shouldn'ta came into the park, Ah- _nuld,"_ Harold mocked in his usual fashion, "We're gonna _own_ the place!"

"Harold, you better watch it," Gerald warned, turning over and trying in vain to wipe the grass blades off of his wet shirt, " _Somebody's_ gonna be comin' back atcha later."

"And who's _that?_ " the older boy smirked and crossed his arms. " _You?_ "

It was then that his answer came in the form of another growl, courtesy of Helga G. Pataki as she crawled up from behind the bench and faced him with a toothy snarl.

Instantly, the pranksters' faces fell. "Uh-oh..." Sid muttered.

"I will have _all of your heads!_ " She roared, having leaped clear off the back of the bench with her fists shaking.

Just as before, the boys were retreating into a quick getaway with screams of mirth (and some fear), the rest of their water balloons in tow.

Helga looked like she was making to run after them, but she was instantly stopped by hands on both of her upper arms holding her back.

"Take it easy, Pataki!" Gerald pleaded. "You ain't gonna catch _all_ of 'em by yourself!"

"I can sure as heck try!" she argued and kept trying to pull out of their grip.

"Even if you do, you'll only get more water balloons in the face!" Arnold pointed out, and he felt Helga stop her tugging in favor of hesitation. "Anyway, they already got us now, so just let 'em get it out of their system."

The two of them gave him an incredulous look. "What, and just _let_ them terrorize the park?" Gerald said with a raised eyebrow.

"They aren't going to terrorize it _all_ summer," Arnold pointed out, letting go of Helga's arm once he felt that she was calm again. "Besides, it's pretty warm today; I'll bet they're not the only ones having water fights. That kinda felt nice, actually."

Gerald sighed. "You gotta point, yeah. But _still..._ it'd be nice to get them _back._ "

"Definitely," Helga agreed, her hands on her hips. "Ain't _nobody_ surprises Helga G. Pataki without retribution. I say we get some water balloons of our own and give 'em a taste of their own medicine."

" _Now_ you're talkin'," Gerald grinned.

"Guys," Arnold rolled his eyes, "Is vengeance really necessary?"

"Don't be _dramatic,_ man; it's not 'vengeance', it's 'getting 'em back'."

"It's the same thing," the blonde boy argued with a hand to his forehead.

Helga groaned. "Why are we even arguing? It's not like they're gonna get hurt. It's a prank war, not a _real_ one." She sighed and rang the water out of one of her pigtails. "Anyway, whatever we do, it's not like it'll be real fun doing it while _wet._ "

"Yeah, I agree with that," Gerald acquiesced, trying to flip his hair to get it dry. "We better go towel off somewhere. _Then_ we can strategize."

"We _were_ on our way back to my house," Arnold pointed out, his resolve about turning a prank into a water war already starting to wane, "We can hang out there while we dry off."

Gerald hummed. "Good idea; maybe your grandpa has some ideas. Or your parents."

Helga observed Arnold's reactions to the whole thing; she wondered if he was really against the thought of a creative way to cool off on a summer day, or if he was just against the idea of starting a fight for the sake of it. _Level-headed as always, my love. But I know sooner or later we'll reach an agreement and you'll be with us._

Especially giddy at the thought of hanging out at Arnold's house, Helga had taken a few steps with them before she halted in her tracks. "Oh, hold on, I'm forgetting something," she excused herself and trotted back to the bench.

She picked the notebook up that she'd left lying there, again inspecting it for more water damage before turning to rejoin the boys.

"What's that for?" Arnold asked with curiosity as he paced alongside her.

Gerald chuckled. "Don't tell me you're takin' a page outta _Phoebe's_ book and doin' your studyin' _before_ school even starts."

"Are you _kidding,_ Geraldo? School is the _last_ thing on my mind. Until the last _minute_ of summer, I don't even wanna _think_ about it," Helga scoffed with her easy lie.

She caught Arnold smiling at her again. "What _is_ in the book, then?"

Her face went warm, and she could easily feel her own blush through the stark coolness that the water brought to her skin. "None of your beeswax," she grunted defiantly, clutching the small tome to her chest. _I should really bring a pack with me to put my books in if I dare bring my writing out in public, I swear._

Despite her caustic reply, Arnold gave her a grin that she at first couldn't read, almost as if he already knew what was in the book; she couldn't decide whether the twinkle in his eye gave her a jolt of anxiety or of bliss. Whatever it was, her heart picked up its pace a little. "What's the smirk for, Football Head?" Helga said with a quirked eyebrow, trying to keep the edge out of her voice.

"Ah, nothing," he chuckled, "But, I didn't mean to pry; I was just curious."

The girl snorted and waved him off, still clutching the book rather protectively. "Eh...it's fine. Let's just get outta here, already; I can't tell whether I'm sweating or still drenched from the balloon bursting in my face."

They went on just as planned, then, but every so often Helga glanced toward Arnold and caught him still giving her that small, knowing grin.

 _..._ _Okay, he's up_ _to something,_ Helga deduced as she tried to keep her own gaze forward. _I wish I could read that wide mind of his._ _Just hope it's not gonna end up with him knowing more about me than I already revealed before...that he STILL hasn't brought up yet, 'cause sure as heck I'M not bringing them up...my love, still you torture me with your mysterious thought process...how I want to hate you for it still..._

* * *

"Well, hey, kids, how're...Jeeee _yumpin_ ' Jiminy! What happened to you guys, Short Man? Y'fall in the lake or somethin'?"

At these words of welcome from his grandfather as they stood in the front door frame, Arnold sighed as he and the other two tried to shake off the last loose droplets of water and took off their shoes. "Nope...a few of our friends are trying to start a water fight at the park."

"An' we were unfortunate enough to be targets," Gerald added. "Mm-mm-mm...those boys have it comin'..."

"Yeah, yeah..." Helga grouched, already feeling tired of the heat that they'd endured on the walk to the boarding house. Without so much as a trickle of wind, the water had stopped feeling like a relief from the oppressive sun and more like an additive to the sweat. "So, think we can bum an extra towel or two, Mr. Shortman?"

"Heheheh, well sure! C'mon in, make yourselves at home...I'm sure Pookie's got a few clean ones layin' around here somewhere; and Helga, I told ya, just call me 'Phil'..." the old man grinned as he closed the door after the children and they marched in a practically sullen fashion. "Water wars...gotta love good ol' fashioned summer shenanigans...yer gonna get 'em back, I take it?"

"-OH yeah."

"-You betcha."

"-Uh...probably."

The three answered in unison, although Arnold was still singled out as the unsure one as he got a few stares for a second. Phil just had to give in to more laughter as they gathered up to the kitchen table. "Ah, c'mon, Arnold, live a little, give those rascals what-for! Why if it were _me_ gettin' pelted all over the place, by golly..."

" _You'd_ be home all day complaining of a broken tailbone or something, Private!" said the terse and oft-maniacal voice of Gertrude Shortman as she came in with fresh, warm towels to distribute to the youngsters, grinning at her husband; she was wearing an old wartime helmet. "These brave soldiers were just fired upon, while unarmed! Have some pity for the wounded; _that_ ain't no fair fight!"

"And who're _you_ supposed to be now, General Patton?" Phil muttered with an eye-roll.

Helga watched all of this and couldn't hold back her snickering; no matter how many times she may have ( _accidentally_ , of course) observed Arnold's family dynamic, it never got old. She gently knuckled his arm. "I ever tell you I really like your grandma, Football Head?"

Gertie cackled and dropped her towel on her head, as she did with the others. "Oh, the feeling's downright mutual, Soldier. Now you minutemen get yourselves patched up, and I'll be in the munitions tent if you need me! Hup, two three four...!" the woman chanted as she marched straight-backed out of the kitchen, with a group of amused, sighing children and an exasperated husband left behind her.

"Crazy old bird; but she's got the right idea," Phil chuckled, "I better go help with those, ah, 'munitions'."

"Meaning you're gonna make water balloons?" Arnold dryly inquired as he took off his hat and worked the towel through his hair.

"For us? Really?" Gerald grinned under his own.

"That's the plan, might as well make it a fair fight!" The grandfather exclaimed with a swing of his fist. "Oh, by the way, Short Man, I sent your parents out grocery shoppin', if you're wondering where they are (we need more than your grandma's leftovers in the fridge, yeesh); should be back anytime now."

Arnold let out a small, relieved sigh and had to smile; he was getting a little less anxious with missing his parents whenever they were out without him now...but if there was anybody who knew his thought process better than anyone in the boarding house, and when to use the right words at the right moment, it was definitely his beloved elder. "Thanks, Grandpa."

Phil gently chuckled and ruffled his messy hair before exiting the room. "No problem, kiddo."

"Arnold, I've said it before, an' I'll say it again," Gerald grinned and shook his head, returning his hair to its normal state, "Your family _kicks._ "

The boy in question had to grin out of the side of his towel. "Yeah, I suppose so," he said evenly and with a shrug, as always just humble about the compliment, because his family's quirks were as always pretty normal for him. As he finished drying his own hair, he noticed as Helga, hers still wrapped up, rang the water out of her usual pink ribbon and laid it between his hat and her book.

He was then reminded of the other reason he'd wanted to bring their group (her in particular) back to his house. "Oh hey," he started and slid out of his chair and nabbed the aforementioned hat, "While we're here, I should go get something outta my room."

"What's that, a blow dryer?" Helga snorted with a playful grin, while Gerald glanced at him questioningly.

"No," he answered with a mysterious smile, his eyes glancing up and away in his innocent, cute (and very suspicious) manner. "But, it kinda _does_ concern you, Helga. Why don't you come with me?"

Her eyes snapped open wide, and her grin disappeared. "Really?" _He's really asking me to his ROOM?_ She tried not to slip into a ball of giddy nerves at the idea. Never before had she actually been _invited_ there yet, even in the nearly-a-month they'd been together. She put on a cocky smirk and leaned back in her chair. "And what could you _possibly_ have that concerns little old _me_ , Arnoldo?"

"Yeah, what would that be, Casanova?" Gerald asked with a laugh in his voice.

" _Gerald..._ " Arnold said, using his "I'm warning you" voice (he'd had to use that quite a lot lately, with the levels of teasing that his best friend could get into). "It's not what you think." He turned back to Helga with a reassuring smile. "Just come with me for a second; you'll see."

Still acting nonchalant, Helga faked an annoyed roll of the eyes and pushed out of her chair. "Alright, I _suppose_ I'll see what you're up to, Mr. Mystery. Guess you'll be hanging back, Hair Boy?" she asked over her shoulder at their (still-grinning) comrade, inside very much hoping that was the case.

Gerald, who by now was always eager to let his best friend practice his flirting (especially if he didn't have to be witness to any mushiness to come of it), waved them off. "Ah, get outta here. I'll just grab myself a Yahoo and help your grandparents with the water balloons. But hey, you guys are letting me in on what's so important later, right?"

" _Maybe,_ if I don't deem it too mortifying to comprehend telling," Helga retorted with a snort before turning back to her boyfriend, who still had that smile that she either wanted to kiss or smack right off his face. "Hurry up and lead on then, bucko."

* * *

Even though she's probably seen it enough times to remember the number of repeating patterns on his floor, Helga couldn't shake off the nervous sense of awe that came from following Arnold through the threshold of his attic room. She also couldn't help feeling an old sense of jealousy (that she wondered if every kid had) when she'd seen the place, tricked-out as it was, and everything inside that he'd built himself.

Above all, there was the very foreign sense of actually being _welcomed_ into this space that was his alone, a sanctuary from the world and its worries; much of which, she guiltily knew, had been caused by herself. It had his colors, smelled like him; and even _felt_ like him, if a simple room in any house could be described like that.

She only remained a few steps from the stairs as the door closed (holding in a giant urge to swoon like mad), her arms crossed patiently while Arnold snatched up the remote control that ran his room and clicked the button to his fold-out couch, all while bounding inside. "You can sit down if you want," he said without looking at her, his eyes instead scanning over his shelves. "What I'm looking for should be around here somewhere..."

Helga took the invitation with a tiny laugh, already starting to come out of her armor of sarcasm while with him; if only ever so slightly. She was still curious about his sudden and eager tone for the thing he wanted to bring up, and whenever she tried to think of any possibility regarding herself (and secrets she'd yet to tell him), a pit would start to burrow in her stomach.

"Okay, but seriously, Arnold, the suspense is killing me," she smirked and leaned back on the couch, unwrapping the towel on her head to concentrate on running it over her hair just a little more. His only reply was a quick glance with that smile and those twinkling eyes as he went back to scanning the shelves over his bed.

Meanwhile, she let her gaze run over every corner of the room, and took the time to enjoy it from the inside for once. _So quaint and yet so complex...everything I could ever know about my beloved is here, and now so am I...left alone here, I could probably write a few HUNDRED more poems if I wished..._

"Aha," she heard him sound, finally having grabbed something on one of the topmost shelves toward the back.

She put the towel on her lap and let her drying hair hang straight behind her head, casting him a raised brow and a quirked lip. "Finally; what's the big surprise?"

He approached the couch with his hands behind his back and sat next to her, smiling warmly. "Well...I know that you didn't want me to bring up your notebook, earlier...but it _had_ reminded me, now that we're together, that you'd...well..." he looked a little sheepish, as if it had clicked in his mind that maybe she'd be a little reproachful for what he was about to do, "...that you'd probably want this back."

And then he produced, to Helga's shock, a familiar old tiny pink book.

She didn't say anything for a long moment as her eyes widened, and she started to feel an old sense of trepidation; the kind that she'd felt only a few years ago at the thought of anyone—let alone _him—_ ever having that book, reading it, and discovering the author of the poems inside; her heart and soul, bared in ink and on each page, verse by verse.

Ever since she'd torn out that last page before he could finish it, though, she'd long forgotten all about that book...until now, as she slowly reached to take it out of his hands and felt the familiar hard cover. She knew the writings were all still there, perhaps almost as pristine as the day she wrote them; Arnold always took great care of the things he had in his possession.

There were a million questions rushing through her mind, demands for answers that she wanted to make...but when she met his sincere eyes again, and that sweet but shy smile, there was only one that wanted to come out first. Caution thrown to the wind, walls drawn away because she'd promised they'd be, she let it come out.

"...You kept this?" Helga breathed out in disbelief.

"Well, yeah," he shrugged, still smiling as his eyes looked briefly down to his hands. "I couldn't just throw away a book of poems...some really creative, and pretty ones...and about _me._ I kept it safe, 'cause I figured I'd _someday_ find out who wrote them." At that, he gave her that half-lidded, almost smug look. "Guess I was right."

"I..." to say that Helga was touched was an understatement. She was almost certain, after witnessing how mortified he seemed to be to have listened to and read all of those heartfelt, passionate soliloquies about a love for him, that he _would_ have tried to forget about them after all was said and done.

She shook her head and snorted, but he noticed that her voice seemed to have an edge of emotion. "I just don't believe you, Football Head, keeping this thing all that time...heh, these poems are old, it's almost embarrassing." She gave him a grin. "Did you really only _just_ figure out that it was mine?"

He chuckled, nervously rubbing the back of his head. "Actually...I figured it out maybe some months, or about a year ago...after the whole 'saving the neighborhood' thing..."

Helga's face automatically went a fiery crimson, remembering that adventure, and especially her impassioned full-on confession on the roof of a skyscraper. "R-right, of course..."

"Anyway," Arnold continued, blushing deeply himself, and wanting to move right along, "I know we'd kinda agreed to let that go, at the time...but, I still couldn't help wondering. I opened the book, and I did some more digging...namely, doing what we missed and looking at the signatures in the yearbook. And when I knew it _was_ yours...well, a lot of things started to fall into place about you, to me."

"Heh," Helga chuckled somewhat nervously. "And you were figuring the mystery that was me out all that time, huh, Sherlock?"

"Yeah, sorta," he admitted, hunching into his shoulders, but moving a little closer to her. "And I must have read them all over again a bunch of times...though, in hindsight, I apologize for that...it was _your_ book and all, and it was wrong of us to peek into it in the first place..."

"Darn tootin', you shouldn't have," she immediately snapped, before she cringed and tried to take in a breath or two before continuing. "...But, it's not like you guys knew what it was when you got it, or _whose_ it was." She opened the covers of the book just to idly flick the pages, then glanced back at him when something he said a minute ago clicked. "You...actually read them all again though? Heh...probably for a laugh, right...?"

"No," said Arnold with an immediately affronted tone. "I read them again because I liked them. Like I said, they were really pretty and creative." She felt him place his hand on hers, the one she was laying on the cover of the book in her lap, and his sincere, eager smile was back. "You're an amazing writer, Helga."

"Psh, come on..." she blurted out, blushing and averting her gaze; she knew that looking into his eyes would sooner or later make her melt, and there was a part of her that _still_ didn't want to let him get through all of her defenses, as much as she loved him. "These are all just things I wrote down when I thought about you. I'm not some kind of poet-laureate...just a normal, crazy, lovesick girl."

Arnold's smile dropped, and he looked at her in the way he always would when there was something curious about her to figure out, tilted head and all. "You're not crazy, Helga..." his fingers squeezed hers. "I don't know why you put yourself down like that...you're always so confident and fearless. I thought you'd be proud of things like that," he tapped the book with one finger, "...The things you create."

"Yeah, it's pretty ironic, huh?" she scoffed, and the hand that felt so warm beneath his own was starting to bunch up a bit. "I can run my mouth at anyone I want like there's no tomorrow, and take out a big, burly river pirate with a _stapler..._ but if I think of _anyone_ finding and reading these, I panic and do everything I can to prevent it." She shook her head. "The crazy things I've done to keep my feelings secret, you'd probably laugh...or hate me..."

"I wouldn't hate you," he argued, "I don't think it's in me to hate anyone. You can tell me anything, and I won't...I promise."

Helga looked up again at that, meeting his eyes, but didn't smile; as much as she wanted to, with her heart lightening like it had always done with his words touching her to the core. "You shouldn't make that promise...not until you know me better."

There wasn't much that Arnold could think of about Helga, at that moment, that _wouldn't_ have him make that promise...but he still relented with a nod, still keeping a gentle grip on her hand and scooting ever closer. "Okay...I can do that. But, still...my point is, you shouldn't be ashamed of that side of yourself. I know you could be an absolutely brilliant poet."

"Oh, shut up, just _shut up_ ," she growled, and he almost wanted to back all the way off his couch... _almost_ , but he didn't.

He was hoping that his honest compliments would help to bring her out of the intensity he could feel in her fist; but she still obviously seemed a ways away from calm. _I wish I knew how to read her mind sometimes...I've never known anyone so complicated. Sometimes the things I do help...and sometimes they don't, like now._

And Helga, still trying to hold onto his sincere words that so touched her heart, was feeling that old sense of vulnerability that she'd kept buried so deeply, under lock and key and chain, where _nobody and I mean nobody_ was able to reach. Even Phoebe only ever saw that when it was at Helga's will...but Arnold, with every breath and touch, was always closer to reaching it himself.

She _hated_ it, _oh_ she hated it, how easily he could do that...but she also hated _that_ she hated, _wanted_ him to find her true self...it was an unending, spiraling cycle that she _couldn't_ seem to break.

She tried to clear her mind, started breathing slowly again. Arnold noticed this and decided to let go of her hand, albeit with clear hesitation, sliding his fingertips away. "Helga...I didn't say anything wrong, did I?" he asked quietly. "Please tell me if I did."

 _Darn him and his kind and wonderful heart, my saintly beloved..._

"No...everything's fine. You're fine...I-I'm sorry. F-for snapping," she evenly answered, and took another breath. "Arnold...want me to tell you a secret right now?"

He watched her attentively. "If you want to tell one, I want to listen," he said.

She gave him a quick glance, a smile threatening to upturn the corner of her lip, before she looked down at the small pink tome again. "When you read these, you ever notice how some of them seem contradictory, like I'm saying how I both love and hate you?"

"Sorta, yeah," he shrugged; he liked reading poems, but he was never very much into trying to figure out the subtleties and hidden meanings within each line, like they did in school before. "Why?"

Helga let out a short chuckle. "Because I _did_ kinda hate you, too."

At that, Arnold couldn't help but breathe a laugh of his own. "Like I couldn't tell that from all the spitballs."

"Silence, you," Helga snorted, giving him a little shove with her shoulder. "It actually wasn't _you_ I hated, I realized later, so much as..." she grimaced, tried to put her thoughts into words. "...As I hated the idea that I loved you."

He gave her a thoughtful look, though his smile only waned a little. "Why would you?"

"Sheesh, why do you _think?"_ she replied shortly, trying rather hard not to become impatient or annoyed with him. She stood up, and started to pace in front of the couch as he continued to sit and watch. "I've spent so _long_ building this tough reputation, the only solidarity in my life that I _had_ , the knowledge that nobody would _dare_ speak ill of me to my face, or put me down, or laugh...and yet, at the same time, I had a weakness: just one. _You,_ all the time with your unending kindness, your uniquely-shaped head, your deep, beautiful green eyes, your laid-back almost suave attitude..."

She stopped upon feeling a goofy smile coming on, and shook her head to come back into focus again (and tried to keep from noticing how much she just made him blush). "You were my weakness. Being in _love_ was a weakness...if anyone _ever_ found out, I'd have been ruined. It was tearing me in half, day by day...and whatever I didn't take out on _you,_ I let out into words."

Arnold's eyes widened as he processed everything that she'd been saying. He did have _some_ idea that Helga was shouldering some deep emotional issues, and he _did_ figure out that the bullying _him_ in particular had something to do with it...but the reason had never really been solidified for him until now, into a perfectly coherent explanation. She continued, letting the words fall out as she kept pacing, her voice rising to an almost theatrical level.

"Oh, sure, I _tried_ to convince myself that it was a phase. I tried once to fall _out_ of love...you might remember that day if you think about it, back in fourth grade, the day I seemed all listless and emotionless. But no...you were in my _life,_ in my _mind,_ all over the place...you were what made me truly happy. It was an _obsession_ , it was a _weakness,_ and I _hated it._ "

She practically fell back onto the couch next to him, her eyes hidden in her palms. Arnold's face fell, uncertain of what to do to help her feel better, if _he_ was the reason she was so often in turmoil. "Helga, I...I'm sorry..."

"Upbupbup," she immediately halted his words with a finger to his lips, "Don't you _dare_ apologize. It's not _your_ fault at all...I know that, known it all along; and in fact I've been finding a lot of things out about myself, and the whole situation, for a while." _Thank you, Dr. Bliss._ "So yeah...that's kinda why I've been such a monster to you over the years. I couldn't follow _one_ emotion without the other tagging along. I've been a basket case, I still kinda am..." She held up the pink book, the back of her hand patting against it. "...And that's why I have trouble even _thinking_ about letting the world see that part of me. I've always _liked_ writing, it's a way to let everything out that builds up. I just don't think it's... _that_ important that anyone but me see it."

Arnold slowly nodded after a pause. "I think I understand, Helga. I'm not telling you that you _should_ show everyone. I'm just telling the truth...even if you don't let everyone know about that side of you, you're still very talented, and could _easily_ be a poet-laureate. And the more I find out about you, the more I know how amazing you can be...I think it'd be hard for _anyone_ to find that a weakness."

Helga huffed, subconsciously aware of the streak of red on her face. "I _guess_...maybe _someday_ I can show that. I sometimes think about it more often than I did before. But, I think I've got a _long_ way to go before I open up to anyone but you and Phoebe...and now maybe Gerald, since he's in on the whole thing."

Her boyfriend let out a chuckle. "You should probably tell him that the pink book's been yours all along. He'll probably faint."

"Yeah, I just _bet_ he'll..." Helga started with a laugh of her own, but stopped and blinked at him. "...You never told Gerald when you found out? Last I saw, the _both_ of you were in on the mystery."

He shrugged. "I thought about it...but I decided to keep it under wraps...it's hard to keep most secrets from my best friend, but...it's _your_ poetry book. It's _your_ decision to say anything about it." He smiled and patted the book, brushing her fingers in the process. "I just wanted to finally give it back, and let you know that it's been in good hands."

Helga couldn't help but smirk at those last few familiar words, the blushing intensifying...and then the genuine smile was back in full on her face. She sighed, her hand reaching up to lay against the hidden heart-shaped locket, and subsequently her real heart. "There you go again...laying on the mush, and somehow, it gets _right_ to me...you're the only one who can ever do that."

Something in Arnold's head clicked, and he glanced down guiltily. "You...you actually hate when I do that, huh? That's why you were so tense when I complimented you."

 _How can this crazy-amazing boy be so confused one moment and so perceptive the next?_ Helga thought to herself as she stared, surprised. "Yeah, I do..." she confessed, looking away briefly. "On the one hand, you've _always_ tried to look into me, and that always annoyed me...but on the other hand, it's silly that I would for one moment think that you'd use that against me. You're one of the very few people in my world who doesn't judge or hurt or reject others when they're vulnerable...and so, I'm still going to try and keep my promise not to get defensive around you." Her voice went into a mutter, her hand finding his again and resting lightly on it. "I owe you that, if not more."

At her touch, and the warm sincerity that managed to find its way into her voice again, Arnold smiled and turned his hand to link their fingers together. "I know you will, Helga...thank you. And...I'll try not to pry and bug you so much, about what secrets you keep. I don't mean to...you just fascinate me."

She scoffed. "What could _possibly_ be so fascinating about _me?_ I told you, I'm just a-"

"-A cute, brave, tough, brilliant girl," he interrupted, giving her a smug grin. "Yeah, I know."

Helga felt that her face could burn off if he kept that up. She kept back a giggle as she hid her eyes in her free hand. "Pff, _quit it_ , wouldja? I thought _I_ was the mushy one, so sayeth the pink book." Her eyes rolled, and she gave him a smile. "And, by the way, thanks...for giving it back, and... _not_ being totally mortified about it, and... _everything_ else, just..."

She was immediately silenced when she felt him kiss the back of her hand, and if that didn't send enough of a pleasant shudder through her entire nervous system, the adoring smile he gave her afterward _certainly_ did the trick. "You're welcome, Helga. And I don't think I could ever be mortified of anything you do...and if you ever feel like talking to me about anything else about yourself..."

Helga let out a defeated (and happy about it, for once) sigh through her smitten grin. "I'll think about it, Arnoldo. Some things about me are...gonna take some time to let out ( _like worshiping your various likenesses I've made over the years, and the night-and-day stalking..._ _yeah, like I'm gonna explain THOSE anytime soon_ _,_ she thought to herself)...but, if you keep taking it all so well as you've done my poetry, maybe there's hope of me _not_ being as much of a basket case as I thought." She regarded him with slight curiosity. "And...you called me _cute_ , again...cut it out, I'm not."

Arnold chuckled. "You are too. I always thought you were, whenever you genuinely smiled, and your eyes sparkled...or you said something very smart...or even when you dressed up sometimes...and you're cute especially when you're blushing, like right now," She could see the splash of color that had lingered on his own cheeks for the last few moments getting brighter, and she noticed to her slight shock that he seemed about to go off into one of his "crush" tangents; his eyes were glazing over. "When I read your poetry, I sometimes imagined your voice saying the words in the soft and nice way you rarely do..."

And Helga was struck silent, just sitting and listening to him go on in his dazed tone—about _her—_ and she couldn't find it in her to stop him. Never in her life, when she would catch him going on about one of his crushes, did she think she'd _actually_ hear him do that with her in mind, though she's dreamed it often enough. Now, she couldn't help but still feel a little undeserving of this adorable boy's words. _He's just speaking out of affection..._ _he's_ _out of his mind_ _._ _I should stop him, I really should, but...I kinda don't wanna._

Suddenly, she was brought out of her own thoughts and froze at the sight of him much closer, reaching to push a stray strand of her still-damp-and-limp hair back behind her ear. "And your hair's pretty, especially when it's down like that," he'd added, and for a brief moment they were almost nose-to-nose, his eyes drowning in hers...and it was like she couldn't dare move, lest he'd tear away from her. She could hear how her heart raced in proximity to his touch, his face, his breath. _Oh geez...he's completely gone, isn't he?_ _Really, completely gone, about ME..._

 _...And I'll be darned if I don't want to be gone too...oh, my beloved..._

A touch of something akin to realization then seemed to come back to his eyes. "In fact...you kinda look like..."

His fingers reached for several more strands of her hair, gently pulling them back over her eye. It was at that moment that clarity also came back to Helga, and her eyes went wide. _Oh NO..._

Arnold stared for all but a few seconds, before suddenly leaping back to the other side of his couch, eyes about to bug straight out of his head. "No _way!_ "

Helga let out a loud groan and let her forehead fall into her palm. "Here we go..." she muttered. _Good grief, I forgot that my hair was still down...how could I have let THAT secret slip?_

"I don't believe it!" Arnold huffed out, holding a hand to his forehead. "Helga, _you_ were-!"

" _Yes_ , Football Head, you got me... _I_ was the mysterious girl who pretended to be your French pen-pal, _Cecile_ ," she dramatically drawled out before giving him a quirked eyebrow and a grimace. "Seriously, is it _that_ surprising? You _really_ never figured out that it was me? Sheesh, welcome back from the land of the romantically dense..."

"Ah, I'm sorry, I..." he was stuttering as he came out of his surprised state, relaxing back down onto the cushion next to her. "No, it really _shouldn't_ be surprising, but...heh," he grinned, and started to laugh. "I'm just...I just can't believe that I... _didn't_ figure it out...!" he was just about all-out laughing now. "Haha...! Oh, man...I _am_ dumb..."

Helga didn't exactly know how to take his sudden bout of laughter ( _Is he laughing at himself, or me, or both?_ ), but she tried to put that confusion behind her, and scoffed. "I said you were _dense_ , you dummy, not _dumb_ ," she knuckled his shoulder, "It means that if anything, you just don't focus on the truth all that quickly, especially when you've got lots on your mind. Heh, sure made it easy all those times I had to get something past you...then again it probably helps that I can apparently look and sound very different with little effort..."

With that, she cleared her throat with a sigh, starting to feel a little awkward about the reveal again; she held her hair in her hands and pulled back the strands, wrists just hanging onto her shoulders. She didn't meet his eyes. She couldn't. "But...yeah...that was me. And...in hindsight, can you blame me?"

Arnold, knowing all that he knew about her (and very closely guessing the things that he didn't), really _couldn't_ blame her. "No...I understand; you wanted to spend Valentine's Day with someone you liked...it really isn't very different from how _I_ was on that day," he said, thinking back. "Though...you probably could have just...told me who you were right then..."

"...And you'd have been mortified," Helga finished for him, an ironic smile tugging at her lip. "You didn't have the highest opinion of me back then...you probably weren't ready to know, and I know I wasn't ready to tell. Besides," she snorted, "I wasn't the only one keeping a secret on that day, was I, Mr. Two-Timer?" She flicked him on the nose.

"Ow!" Arnold rubbed that spot, wanting to grimace back at her, but found himself chuckling instead. "Okay, okay...yeah, it's true...I can't believe I tried to pull off two dates at once. But, if it's any consolation, at least I finally figured out how I felt about Ruth, that night. And eventually...I found that you were right."

She blinked. "About what?"

He smiled and sidled closer to her again. "About how the most beautiful gifts can come from unexpected places." His hand took one of hers from its entanglement in her hair and he gently squeezed her fingers. "In my case...a beautiful person."

She scoffed, feeling her face warm again. _Seriously, how did he get so good at getting through to me?_ "You just figured out that I once lied to get the chance to go on a date with you, and you're still saying that? You _are_ pretty dense..."

His eyes rolled, but he kept his smile. "Maybe..." he slid closer, so that they were side-to-side again. "Or, maybe _you're_ the one having trouble seeing the truth."

"Oh, shut up," she ordered, nudging him. _He's so cheesy...but gosh-darnit, I love him for it all the more._ "I can see it just _fine,_ thank you."

Arnold just chuckled, secretly loving the fact that he could so easily make her flustered; and yet, inwardly promising himself that he'd never again use that against her, if he could help it. "Whatever you say, Helga. Oh," he said as he suddenly let go of her hand and stood up, "Um, I suppose you might want your other shoe back, too...the one you lost that night."

Helga watched him quickly take a step into his closet with wide eyes. "Arnold...you kept that too?"

"Yeah," he confirmed, rummaging only for a second until he produced a single red shoe, and showed her with a small smile. "Again, just like the pink book, I thought I'd probably run into the girl it belongs to."

And Helga couldn't help it...she outright giggled. "You really are some kinda romantic nut case, aren't you?"

Arnold laughed with her, placing the shoe on top of the poetry book, which had wound up next to her on the couch's end table. "Maybe," He smirked innocently as he walked back around to her other side, "but I figure it takes one to know one."

"Oh, ha-ha," she remarked back, "Maybe this all _was_ a mistake; you're getting comfortable with talking _back_ to me."

His eyes narrowed, as mischievous as his grin, and he made a point to sit down slowly next to her again. "And if I want to be?"

She blinked, then gave him a slightly sour look. "Then I might have to do something about it."

He smirked, edging closer; his voice had a quiet, challenging tone. "Like what? You know you'll never hit me."

Her eyes rolled, and then she chuckled. _Oh, Arnold, so_ _bold, and so_ _cute how you think this game of getting flustered only works YOUR way._ "No, no, maybe I can't, true. But," She leaned in closer herself, "I know a way to shut you up, if someday you fail to be so quick in ducking me." Her own voice went low, and somehow, it sounded _more_ dangerous than it did when she was outright yelling. " _If_ you recall."

She could hear him gulp loudly, his face about as red as she'd ever seen it ( _oh_ yeah, he could recall), and she laughed. "Oh, lose the look of horror, Arnoldo...I actually kinda like how you stand up to me. It makes things more interesting than our old one-dimensional dynamic of 'bully and victim'." Helga let out another short laugh, and he smiled along too. "Anyway...thanks again for keeping these. The shoes probably don't fit me anymore now, but...I still kept my one, too, just to remember that night. It's, honestly..." she sighed, "...one of my favorite memories; just having a date without the hangups that come with being me."

He chuckled, leaning back against her again and giving her a fond smile. "...It's one of mine, too. And...who knows, maybe we can have a _real_ date there sometime now. You, and me, and no more secrets."

"That _would_ be lovely..." Helga hummed, before turning and pointing at him with her free hand. "That place _is_ a little expensive though, and I'll tell ya right now, I'm _not_ ending up washing dishes again, I don't care _how_ kinda-fun it was doing it with _you."_

At that, Arnold barked out a laugh. "I agree...don't worry, Helga, I'll have us covered. I'm a gentleman, after all."

"Good," she smirked. "No cheaping out, Football Head; after all, can't act all _sophisticated_ without the full fancy experience, now can we?"

"'Course not," he grinned, deciding to play dramatic himself as he took her hand in his again and held it up, his half-lidded gaze facing her. "A smart and sophisticated poet such as you, Helga G. Pataki, I would _insist_ should have the best."

And at that, the girl couldn't help it; she audibly swooned, half-playing dramatic along with him and half-falling into one of her dreamy states, falling straight against the couch with the back of her free hand up to her forehead. " _Oh,_ my dear Arnold, how gallant of you...such a gentleman you really are, how sophisticated in your _own_ right." Then, her usual attitude was back when she let out a scoff. "Really, _me_ , sophisticated...the other kids would die laughing."

Arnold had gotten a light streak of red on his face at observing her creative, waxing-poetic demeanor coming out once more, and he couldn't shake the soft smile that came with it. _She really is cute when she does that...beautiful, even..._

"I don't think they would, Helga...I think they'd be impressed. You _are_ sophisticated, in ways."

"Oh, pff..." she sighed, turning her face from him as the blush refused to leave.

 _Someday I swear I'll either just melt or punch him for trying to make me melt..._ _m_ _ost likely the former..._

She nudged him again, breaking herself out of her mental flips. "O-Okay, let's quit playing dramatic for now...Geraldo and your grandparents'll wonder what the heck's going on if we're not back. And...hey, um..." she nervously glanced back at him and rubbed at her neck, "Y'know...if you really _do_ like my poems that much... _maybe_ I can let you read what I've written so far in that new book I have...I mean, it's not very good, I feel I'm kinda losing my usual edge, but...I've gotten better since the old stuff I've written in the pink book..."

"I think it'll be very nice," Arnold assured her, and she looked back up in surprise as he took her other hand in his grasp as well and entwined their fingers. "I'd love to read it. And I promise I won't tell anyone, even Gerald, if you don't want me to."

Helga tried to hold it back, but a sweet smile still appeared on her face. _Oh, why ever do I fight it...I'm alone with him, dangit, I WILL make the most of it...he wants me with my walls down, so with him, down they'll forever be..._ "Well...heck...as long as _he_ doesn't blab, you can probably share it with Gerald..."

 _I just know someday she'll want to share this bright talent with the world..._ thought Arnold. _But, whatever she's happy with, I'm happy with._ "He's not a blabber, Helga, you know that...so don't worry." He leaned in closer. "And thank you, for sharing it with _me._ "

Helga, her heart thundering as she was drawn into his eyes, dropped her forehead onto his. "Heh, hey, never a problem, Arnold...if the crazy things I come up with make _you_ happy..."

He gulped quietly, shy at her close proximity, but simply squeezed her warm and strong fingers with his own, his smile matching hers. "Of course they do. _You_ do."

... _Oh, that's IT, I HAVE to kiss him..._

Arnold had already closed his eyes, sensing that they were both on the same page at this point in the conversation...

When a knock at his door suddenly jarred them both out of the moment, making them leap back to opposite ends of the couch (nay, nearly off the _edges_ ) with violently red faces.

"Hey, Short Man, you decent?" cackled Phil's voice from behind the door. "Just lettin' ya know we got the water balloons done, and Gerald's waitin' on ya. If we're gonna get this battle goin' before dusk, we gotta hustle!"

Arnold found his voice after a short gulp, trying to keep it level, while Helga opposite him did her darnedest to not even flinch. "Okay Grandpa, be there in a sec!"

"Just take your time, Arnold...and tell Helga not to keep you occupied so long next time!" the old man laughed again as he could be heard turning and leaving.

" _Grandpa!_ " the boy cried out in a mortified fluster, dragging his palm down his face.

 _Okay, even if I AM never going to live it down in this house until we're adults, THAT was funny_ , Helga couldn't help but think as she regained her balance on the couch and coughed out a chuckle. "Heh, I toldja Arnoldo, that'll _definitely_ be our luck from now on."

"...Yeah," he let out with a nervous chuckle of his own, just barely meeting her eyes, "Grandpa always had the best timing, anyway..."

"Aw, don't worry about it," she waved off as they scooted closely back together again. "We'll always have time for being all mushy. But, thanks again, Arnold...for the talk, and for these back," she grabbed the pink book and red shoe and tucked them under her arm, also reaching for the towel she'd used on her hair. "Let's get a move-on."

Arnold, giving her a grateful smile for moving the two of them quickly out of a moment of awkwardness, simply nodded as he felt the embarrassment dying down. "Yeah, let's go...and you're welcome," he added as he led the way to his door and put his hand on it. "I'm glad to finally be giving them back to their rightful owner."

He paused and froze right then though, at the feeling of Helga placing her hand upon his and the sight of her appearing _right_ in front of him, having put on her patented mischievous grin, although there was a glimmer of something other than her usual teasing in her gaze; something warmer.

"And _I'm_ glad that you kept them safe for me all this time, my sweet prince," she murmured before snatching the front of his collar and attaching her lips to his in one swift motion.

Arnold's eyes went wide and he went entirely frozen for several seconds (he never did yet get used to the thought of Helga's more aggressive moments of affection), his cheeks all but exploding from the warmth that was brought on...but then, he closed his eyes and returned the gentle press of a kiss, his free hand giving her shoulder a small squeeze as well. _I_ _should expect that, I really should..._

It was only a small, albeit sweet moment, before Helga broke from him and released his collar with a wince. Her flushed face told him that even _she_ might not have expected that from herself. "...Um...sorry, I guess getting interrupted got to me more than it let on, heh..."

Ever-accepting, Arnold just chuckled and gave her a warm look. "I've never complained about any of your kisses, Helga; I'm not with this one, either."

 _..._ _It's true...he didn't_ _really, though he could have,_ Helga felt a happy tingle pass through her, _H_ _ow do I ever deserve you, my dashing young love...?_

"And neither do I with yours," she intoned with a light giggle, enjoying how much she could make him blush, before coming back to herself again by clearing her throat. "Anyway, open the door already, chucklehead; we got ourselves a water war to win, and we _will_ win, or my name isn't Helga G. Pataki."

Arnold let out a calming breath and snickered, doing as asked. "Say...since you're opening up about yourself, you wanna tell me what the G stands for? I've always been curious."

"That's enough secrets for one day, Nosy," Helga smirked as she moved past him, reaching up to try putting her hair back in its usual style.

"Aw, come on," he begged as he trotted after her. "Please?"

"Nope."

"Why not?"

"'Cause."

"'Cause why?"

"BE-cause."

"Helga..."

" _Later_ , Football Head, sheesh..."

"I'm _gonna_ know sooner or later..."

"You want me to revoke your kiss rights? I will."

"Oh, yeah, _right..._ "

* * *

Meanwhile, downstairs, Gerald was having an inward battle with himself as he sat back at the dining room table, eyeing the notebook that Helga had left behind.

 _I don't know why I'm EVEN thinkin' of peekin' at it. Helga'd have my neck, and Arnold'll give me an earful. I can already hear it. But then again...what's the harm of just ONE look? What's so important? And anyway...she DID torture us since pre-school..._

The boy sighed and shook his head. "This is ridiculous."

But even though he thought he made up his mind, his hand started to inch toward it...

"You even _think_ about touching that book, Johanssen, and your body will be harder to find than that Jeremy Hiffa guy!" Helga's voice suddenly thundered from the corridor, echoing wherever it would reach.

Gerald whipped his wandering arm back behind him as his couple of friends appeared back in the dining room. "I _swear_ I didn't do anything, Helga! It's still here on the table, closed, with your ribbon on it. Y'can take my fingerprints if you want!" Then, as an afterthought, he quirked an eyebrow. "Who's Jeremy Hiffa?"

"Oh y'know," she waved him off (and Arnold, in the background, watched with a smirk), "The labor union leader who disappeared in the 70's and they never found him, even today, 'cause the mob hid the body too well. It's a world-famous mystery!" She put a fist on her hip. "You guys should seriously read more."

"Right, I'll do that," Gerald rolled his eyes, then put his elbow on the table and grinned at the two. "Sooo, what was so important that you guys had to disappear for several minutes?"

"It wasn't that long, Gerald," Arnold smirked back. "Anyway, I _did_ wanna give Helga back something I borrowed a long time ago."

"Yeah, no big thing," Helga matter-of-factly dismissed, placing her pink book on top of her new one (the shoe she had given back to Arnold to hide and decided to get back later; Gerald could be privy to some things, but not _everything_ ). "Just that."

Gerald blinked at the book for a second; then, they saw the instant it clicked, and he went wide-eyed. " _That was...?_ " He slapped his forehead. "Of _course_ it was yours. Who _else_ do we know with a crazy crush on Arnold? Mm-mm- _MM,_ why didn't I guess that sooner?" He gave his best friend a suspicious grimace. "And why didn't you tell me?"

Arnold gave him a serious look, crossing his arms. "Because once I knew it was hers, I wanted to leave it up to _her_ to tell you. It's _her_ book, and it just really concerned the two of us. I know _you_ have things you keep from _me,_ and _I_ don't need to know, so I don't ask."

"Yeah, what he said," Helga nodded, placing her hands protectively over her books. " _But,_ I _have_ given Arnold permission to tell you secrets if he wants...the caveat _being_ that _you_ have to keep them from our lovable-but-mainly-not-very-mature-and-nosy _classmates._ " Her eyes narrowed. " _Capisce,_ Hair Boy?"

Gerald paused with a slightly-defiant look between them, before sighing. "What'd I get myself into..." he murmured with a shake of his head and looked back at them. "You have my word, I won't tell anyone that Helga's a lovey-dovey poet..."

"-The caveat _includes not teasing me about it yourself,_ Gerald," Helga warned him in a low almost-growl. "There's a part of me that's still not exactly thrilled at my writing skills being exposed even to _Arnold_. I have a carefully-built reputation to maintain."

"I getcha, Pataki, I getcha," Gerald waved his hands peaceably. "Really though, teasing aside, some of the stuff you come up with isn't half-bad. I'm guessing those were _your_ poems that Simmons sometimes read to the class before, huh?"

"Most of them, yeah," Helga muttered out beneath her breath, keeping her gaze in a far-off place away from those of the boys; though a short steal of a glance to Arnold had him wearing his eternal smile. It warmed her heart, and banished what fear she had left of revealing her innermost thoughts to one more person that day; she was thankful at least that Gerald, again, tended to be cool about any situation.

"A-Anyway, there ya go, mystery solved. Now," her voice returned to its usual tone of command as she tied her ribbon securely back onto her head. "Last we checked, Arnold's also close to being convinced to let us have this water fight." Her fist punched her palm. "So let's _get_ those losers."

"What's this about a water fight?" Asked a laughing voice from the door out into the den.

The kids' heads whipped up to the presence of Stella Shortman walking in. With a smile of greeting, she began setting down several paper grocery bags on the counter.

"Hey, Mom," said Arnold as he welcomed her with a hug, as per usual when seeing his parents again after a while. "Where's Dad?"

"He's getting the rest of the bags, sweetie," she warmly replied as she ran her hands through his hair. She blinked and quirked her lip in in curiosity, feeling the remaining bit of dampness left in his roots. "So, again, what's this about a water fight?" she asked, also glancing up to his friends.

"Ah, it's nothin', Doc," Gerald smiled dismissively. "Some of our friends at the park are makin' target practice outta everyone who walks in, with water balloons."

"Including us," Helga added, putting on her "I'm-around-adults-and-I'm-an-innocent-kid" face, complete with her hands clasped behind her back. "Sooooo, we're gonna even the score."

"With _more_ water balloons," Gerald toothily smirked.

"I see," said Stella with narrowed "suspicious mom" eyes, looking back at her son (who had let out a long-suffering sigh). "And, let me guess, your grandfather's helping."

"You're abso- _positively_ right, Stella!" Phil's energetic voice piped in from the hall, and he poked his head inside to face everyone in the dining room. "We got two entire full boxes of the most dangerous water bombs known to Man—and a few known to monkeys—and I'm startin' the Packard as soon as I have the word...heheheh!"

Arnold gave his mom a sort of apologetic grin. "Personally I think the heat's just making everyone a bit stir-crazy... _again_..."

"Yeah, it does that," muttered Miles as he entered the conversation with the rest of the bags. "Did I miss much?" he asked Stella with a smile, placing them with hers on the counter and wiping his brow of sweat.

"There's a debate to start a war going on," she deadpanned.

"Oho, really?"

Arnold sighed. "To recap, they want revenge on some of the kids water-bombing us, and I told 'em we didn't need to make it a war."

" _You're_ the one who's crazy, for not thinkin' this could be made into some of the _most_ fun we've had all summer!" Gerald argued. "C'mon, Arnold, the clock's tickin' down until the school year, and we already lost a nice chunk a' summer in the jungle!"

"Alright, alright," Helga then jumped back into the debate, clapping her hands for attention. "We can't stand here all day sayin' 'yea' or 'nay'...time's a-wasting. So, Miles, Stella, now that you're here, what's _your_ stand?"

The two adults hummed in thought for a moment, glanced at each other, and then faced the kids again. Stella started. "Well, normally _I_ would agree that more fighting is just going to make things worse."

"But...?" Gerald prompted.

" _But,_ you're right, it's totally too hot outside _not_ to," finished Miles with a grin. "Your friends have a point, Arnold; you should make the most out of summer while you can."

Stella smiled at her husband and took his hand. "Yeah...besides, we've gained a new appreciation for not letting time slip away. So, you might as well go have your fun."

" _There_ we go, that's the spirit!" Phil crowed. "Whaddya say then, Short Man...?"

Arnold glanced between the eyes of everyone surrounding him, knowing full-well that the message had already gone through his mind, and that his decision had long been made...but he still had to put his fingers to his temples. "I'm outnumbered, aren't I?"

"Outnumbered _and_ outmatched, O Peacekeeper of P.S. 118," Helga grinned, and everyone else nodded.

Arnold put them through another pause of thought before lifting his head and grinning at his friends and eager grandparent, eyes narrowed. "Then let's grab our balloons and get out there."

Helga, Gerald, and Phil instantly cheered, and together they raced for the car and their stash of weapons for one of the biggest acts of revenge concocted in their young history (with a laughing Miles and Stella at their back).

And at the end, they indeed had fun (even their waiting victims had to agree later under muttered breath).

And Helga could have sworn that after her talk with Arnold that day, she could feel her writer's block breaking down once more.


	4. Jinxed?

((AN: 'Bout time for another story. :3 I worked on and off on this one inbetween other writings; I had fun with it, as it felt a bit like I was channeling something out of an actual episode for the most part. xP If there's one thing I love writing just as much as shippy moments, it's banter and conversation; and these kids are perfectly ripe for such moments. The beginning was inspired by the beginning of the episode "Das Subway". I dunno why, I'm just amused by the thought of these kids talking about movies they saw with a heavily critical eye. I wasn't thinking of any movie series in particular when I wrote that part (though I may have let my own thoughts slip into them...). You guys can use your imagination. x3

The idea as a whole for this one was among those I came up with early; I felt it would be a slightly-amusing thing to go into, as I've never seen a fanfic as of yet touch on how weird Arnold's luck is, though for not the reasons he may think. Plus it's a nice change of pace to go into some of his own hangups, and not giving Helga all of the spotlight on that front. xP Miles and Stella are getting particularly fun to write the more I explore their personalities.

With that, I wanna thank you guys again for your lovely comments; as always I feel humbled and glad that everyone enjoys my attempts at writing this world. ^^ This one turned out almost as long as the last one; I hope it doesn't feel like I'm dragging it on. I always try to make every chapter fun, but sometimes my muse makes me feel like I could be doing better. ^^; As for the requests I've been given, I have them in mind, promise, it's just a matter of making a story out of them. I will eventually, I hope. XD

Anyway, enjoy this one! All characters and the world belongs to Craig Bartlett, though I make up some extras. I can never steal from this show, it's too good.))

* * *

Jinxed?

"...If y'all want _my_ opinion, it's the best durn movie o' the lot."

"Nobody exactly _asked_ for your opinion, Stinky...and how can you _say_ that? There was barely anything of actual _plot_ in this one, and just more senseless humor."

"I dunno, Helga, I mean we _got_ a continuation of the story, so..."

"It still could've been _better,_ is all I'm saying."

This unfolding banter came from a small group of youngsters exiting the local movie theater one windy afternoon, in discussion of the third release in a lately-popular film franchise.

Originally it had been Arnold, Helga, Gerald, and Phoebe all going together as sort of a double-date...but not long into the previews, Harold and Stinky had entered and taken the row right in front of the couples (leaving them a little self-conscious in attempting anything remotely affectionate as a result...Helga wondered if she'd have to concoct a convoluted spy-movie-esque plan involving walkie-talkies and code names to ever have a significant amount of time alone with Arnold in public), thus at least making it an interesting conversation about the film as a whole when walking out.

"Aright, aright, here's _my_ thought," Gerald piped in after Helga's last line, "Did the original movie even _need_ sequels? Maybe not...but we got 'em, and they were pretty alright to me. At least the second one."

"Indeed," Phoebe agreed with a nod as she adjusted her glasses, "The second installment showed attention to the visual quality of the first movie, plus the plot expanded on character development and as a result seemed more attuned to a dramatic story-line. Of the three, I would say that one is vastly the best, although that is only a subjective thought. The third was still entertaining."

"What she said," Helga agreed with a jerk of her thumb to her best friend, "Of the _not-needed_ sequels, I'd say the second one _is_ the best... _but,_ nothing beats the original of any franchise. It's the one that set the heart and soul and _tone_. The third one, it just doesn't _mesh up_ anymore. After the second movie, all franchises just become _that_...franchises."

Arnold gave Helga a smile, though he tried to keep it at his usual kind grin rather than letting it go a little smitten at the bit of passion she showed in her reasoning about anything. "I guess that's true; I'm _always_ gonna like the first one."

"Eh, the movie biz is annoying like that," Gerald agreed with a shrug, "Y'all know how I'm a sucker for a good story. Sometimes y'just gotta tell it once, tell it _right_ , an' leave it at that."

The kids muttered their agreements, but Stinky had to huff and cross his arms. "Y'all are jus' bein' a buncha fuddy-duddies. Th' movie looked _amazin'!_ It's th' best durn movie o' the lot, an' that's that."

"You're a real _simpleton,_ you know that, Stinky?" Helga sighed; she could see Arnold giving her a stern quirk of an eyebrow, to which she just smirked. Whatever they couldn't do in public, at least she and her beloved had been perfecting the art of silent conversation.

Gerald, though, snickered. "'Ey, some of us are just easy to impress. Let 'im have his opinion. And yeah, the visuals _were_ pretty boss."

"Eh, the movie was alright," Harold finally said from behind the group, still casually munching on the jumbo bag of popcorn he'd bought. "Some of the acting was dumb. The one guy with the fake accent kept buggin' me."

" _Who_ played him again?" Helga inquired with her brow quirked.

"The one guy who's in _all_ the cartoons..." Arnold pointed out.

"Ohh, yeah, that guy. He should stick to the Saturday morning lineup."

"Well, anyway," Arnold hummed and turned to the group as they walked, "What should we do now?"

"I was thinkin' some Stickball at Gerald Field," Gerald grinned. "We still gotta settle that tie."

"Settle it for _my_ team, you mean," Helga smirked.

"Yeah, we'll see, Pataki."

So far, it seemed that settling back into a normal life was coming fairly easily to the soon-to-be sixth-graders. There were still quite a few classmates who would still bring up the jungle adventure, and for sure Gerald had put the whole ordeal in his many annals of Hillwood legendary feats; it was certain to be talked about until at least the start of school. Arnold was just happy that it was starting to be put behind him, in favor of getting back into a normal (mostly) routine of banter and play...just being kids again like nothing ever happened, sans any nightmares.

And in fact, another normal part of their routine was about to swiftly, and quite literally, collide with them as they started to cross another street up into Arnold's mostly-quiet neighborhood...for all of a sudden, as they were walking, there happened to come a loud _CLACK_ around the corner, followed by a familiar shriek.

"...Was that Eugene?" Arnold blinked as the kids looked around until they could see the direction from whence the scream came.

And at the sight of the familiar red-headed form of Eugene Horowitz barreling down the sidewalk towards the group, screeching as he was trying to balance on one leg with his scooter having lost both a wheel and any braking control, Gerald had just enough time to deadpan "Yup," before they all tried to scatter out of his way with a few alarmed yelps of their own.

As they did, and only seconds before Eugene flew by as fast as a jet (his high-pitched wail just about as loud as the engine of one), Arnold turned to see where the unlucky boy was heading in his latest out-of-control journey...all the way to the end of the sidewalk on the next street, straight toward the flank of an oncoming bus.

"NO!" the concerned football-head shouted as the trouble was registered...lightning-fast, he'd reached out to snatch his friend from off of his scooter—only to lose his footing and be dragged along for the ride.

"Hey, whoa, Arnold, _wait_ -!"

 _"ARNOLD!"_

The cries of distress from Gerald and Helga respectively echoed out from behind him as he gripped onto the back of Eugene's shirt and tried to brake the runaway scooter with one of his heels. "Eugene, brake with your foot!" he instructed loudly over the rushing wind; with his own effort, the scooter slowed, but not nearly enough to stop from its quick descent toward the open street.

"I _tried,_ but, funny story, the sole of my shoe got ripped off-!" Eugene stammered out between his frightened wails, and his eyes widened at the sight of the oncoming traffic. "Well, _this_ is gonna hurt..." he could only mutter in the way he always did, so used to all of his painful, close-call adrenaline rushes that almost nothing could faze him emotionally.

Arnold's eyes narrowed with determination; there was a moment where it felt, in all of his focus, that the danger was approaching at a slow-motion crawl. It was that moment where the decision had to be made _now_ , the difference between what _could_ happen and what could be _prevented_ , and almost as if it were his only impulse, the bold kid always aimed for the latter option.

"Then just roll off! _Right now!_ "

At the very moment he made that order, he yanked Eugene free of the scooter and sent _it_ and _them_ flying sideways, dropping and dragging onto the concrete with equally-pained grunts, just a hair of a second before they were to reach the black of the street and the moving side of a _very_ heavy vehicle, which seemed to pay the whole thing no mind. The scooter had vaulted into the street itself to meet its fate underneath several passing car wheels when the light changed again.

After a few seconds on the ground, Arnold tried to lift himself up on his arms, hissing in pain. "Oww...Eugene?"

The other boy, in response, raised his arm and waved. "I'm okay," he muttered back with a dizzy air, a little worse for wear but nonetheless alive.

"Hey! Arnold!"

Hearing his name being called with concern, he looked up quickly to witness Helga and Gerald catching up to them at a breathless run with Phoebe close behind, and Harold and Stinky not far off either, wanting to witness the latest damage done via another masterful Eugene mishap.

Gerald and Helga were both instantly at Arnold's sides, while Phoebe went to help Eugene to his feet and look him over. " _Geez,_ man," the tall-haired kid shook his head with a never-ending look of incredulity toward his best friend as he lifted his arm, "Haven't you had enough heroics for a _lifetime_ already?"

" _Seriously,_ Football Head!" Helga chided from his other side and took him by the elbow of his other arm, "Last I checked, I'm pretty sure you have _parents_ now who want to see you in one piece!" _Not to mention a GIRLFRIEND, you overly-confident, brave, stupid little hero, you..._ she added in her thoughts, hoping that Arnold would catch her concern from somewhere within her annoyed tone.

"Had to do it," he muttered back with some pained exhaustion as he allowed himself to be helped, and tried to steady his body on scraped and bruised limbs. "There's no way he'd have avoided the street, and that bus."

"Mm-mm- _mm_ ," Gerald could only sigh. "One a' these days you won't _be_ so lucky..."

"Willikers!" Stinky uttered out in awe. "That's some dang lightnin'-fast re-flexes y'got, Arnold...Eugene'd have been a goner fer sure..."

"Flat like a pancake," Harold helpfully added.

"Indeed, it is quite fortunate that we crossed paths," Phoebe had to admit as she succeeded in getting the unlucky kid in question to his feet. "Eugene, how on Earth were you suddenly careening out of control like that?"

"Ugh...I dunno," he admitted, standing well enough, but he wobbled off-balance for a time. "I was just taking the scooter out for a spin, since I just had it fixed...and all of a sudden, I lose a wheel and I can't stop..." he let out his nervous laugh, giving one of his grins that nobody could ever guess was either forced or genuine. "And _th_ _at_ wasn't even the thing that broke and got fixed before...isn't that weird? Golly, that made today a little more exciting, though."

Gerald groaned. "How that kid can be so upbeat after all the things that happen to him is _beyond_ me," he said in a muttered voice to his friends.

"That's Eugene the Jinx for ya," Helga sighed, "He'll never change."

"Well, actually," the kid in question piped in, "The scooter felt fine until I happened to come in sight of _you_ guys...I mean, I _could_ be wrong, but, everything that tends to go bad to me, _only_ still seems to go bad when Arnold's around..."

At that, Arnold let out a groan (and Gerald fought back a tiny, knowing grin). "Not _this_ again...c'mon, Eugene, things have happened to you _before_ that had _nothing_ to do with me...I think. I just try to help! And...it backfires...more than usual..."

"Speaking of which, thanks for that save," Eugene continued. "I really appreciate your help, Arnold, I really do...especially since _this_ time it _could_ have turned out worse...still, I'm just saying...there's a really big chance that _you're_..."

"Don't _say it,_ Eugene," Arnold instantly interrupted and rubbed at the stress that was accumulating at his forehead. "And I was happy to help. Later maybe I'll help get you a new scooter."

" _No,_ no, that's fine, you've done enough today," Eugene quickly said with his good hand raised; the other was feeling his spine for any breakages. "Thanks again, Arnold...I'll catchya later."

"Are you sure you don't require any more assistance?" Phoebe asked. "You look to be limping rather painfully."

"Eh, it's better than when I could only roll around like a giant ball," he weakly joked. "I'm just fine; you know me, right? Sunny and cheerful all day long...! Ow." And with that (plus an audible crack in his bones somewhere), Eugene let out another nervous laugh and kept walking at a slightly more brisk pace.

The group of six watched their classmate as he hobbled back the way he came...and then an uncomfortable pause filled the air for a few seconds, during which time Gerald could be heard holding in a few snickers, and the rest of the kids just seemed a little perplexed.

"Well, gawrsh," Stinky said with a scratch to the top of his head, "I wonder what he was goin' on about you, Arnold."

"Yeah, that _was_ kinda new," Helga admitted with a quirk of her brow toward Gerald, whom she noticed seemed to _want_ to double over in laughter, and to Arnold, who was rubbing his eyes with two fingers. "Anybody wanna clue me in?"

"Later, Helga," Arnold sighed. "I think it's time we started heading back."

"What a dweeb...still, that _was_ weird. It's like he thought _you_ were the..." Harold started with a faraway look and a thoughtful scratch to his temples...which stopped almost on a dime as something in his brain clicked. He barked out a cackle. "No _way!_ _Ah-nuld's_ the jinx!"

" _What?_ Yer pullin' my leg!" laughed Stinky right along with him. " _Arnold_ ain't the jinx!"

"Yeah, but Eugene came to that conclusion on his birthday more than a year ago," Gerald informed their tall classmate with a lot of held-back giggling. "Poor kid's in denial."

"Who, Eugene 'r Arnold?" Stinky replied, making himself and Harold double over in continuous laughter.

"Yeah," Harold had to keep jeering along, "I bet we all have to avoid _Arnold_ now, or he'll curse all of us!"

"Alright, alright, that's _enough_ outta both of ya!" Helga snarled as she dropped Arnold's arm for a moment to face the boys with her fists at her hips. As funny as the situation kinda _was_ to her as well, she'd noticed her bruised and battered beloved was starting to get fairly agitated, though he just rolled his eyes passively upward and let them have their fun, as he tended to always do. It was about time for her to stand and break up the teasing, if nobody else was going to. "Jinx or not, in _case_ you haven't noticed, Arnold probably just saved Eugene's _life._ Even _I_ have to give props to the poor schmo. And unless you have something _intelligent_ to add, I'm sure you jokers have something _better_ to do, so I suggest you _beat it!_ "

"Okay, fine, jeez...don't get your pigtails in a twist, Helga," Harold just dismissively sighed.

"Seriously though...that _was_ an awesome save, Arnold," Stinky had to acknowledge, though still with a mirthful grin on his features. "I don't reckon I know if yer really the jinx, but at least Eugene'll be owin' ya his life again."

"Tell him don't mention it," Arnold said with a short sigh, waving them off. "We gotta go. We can have the Stickball rematch another time."

"No problemo," Stinky gave a thumb-up. "Seeya guys. Hope nothin' ain't broken."

"Unless you get in another _accident,_ " Harold joked with a laugh, and the boys parted ways with the two couples.

Once they were alone again, Helga shook her head. "Buncha yahoos...alright, we'd better make some tracks so you can get looked over, Football Head."

"Indeed...perhaps we should get you to your parents," Phoebe suggested to Arnold, "Both are accomplished doctors, and we are quite close by."

"That'd be the idea," Gerald nodded with a smile to his girlfriend, but also giving his blonde compatriot a serious look. "Think you can walk, man?"

"I'll be fine, Gerald, thanks," he replied with a light shrug and felt the grip on his arm release. There was some limping as he took a few test steps ahead, though, so Gerald and Helga shared a silent agreement to stay at his respective sides just in case. "And Helga," he looked up at her with a grateful, sweet smile, "Thanks for getting them off my back."

 _I swear I'll never get used to that look he gives me now...maybe there's hope for me in mending my evil ways...well, a little._ "Eh, it's nothing about _you;_ I was just getting tired of hearing them jabbering." Her smile in return was wry, though genuine, and despite the dismissive demeanor on the outside, it was sure that he recognized the sincerity in her eyes for the truth. "Let's get moving."

* * *

"...So really, he wasn't joking? He really thinks that _Arnold_ is the unlucky one?"

" _Oh_ yeah...there's barely any convincin' him otherwise!"

Though it was only a short walk back to the boarding house, to Arnold's growing annoyance, it felt like a miles-long trek when the conversation went back to filling Helga and Phoebe in on the whole fiasco. Usually the good-natured sort when it came to teasing, he had long dismissed Eugene's theory as just that—after all, he knew the truth. This had been the first time in a while that it had come up again, though, and it was starting to leave him with a few worried thoughts...and a bit of forgotten guilt.

 _...Why DOES everything bad usually only happen to Eugene when I'm there? I thought I was always just there to help, like I am with everybody...and nothing bad happens to anyone ELSE when I'm around them...I mean, not always...there's still the Dangerous Lumber...and then there was La Sombra, but I don't know if that one count_ _s...but they came along in the first place because of me..._

"That barely makes any sense," Phoebe was heard chiming in from ahead of them, "Statistically speaking, everyone should have the same amount of luck, with superstition just based on olden beliefs. No one person is luckier than another, or unluckier."

"Then how do you explain Eugene?" Gerald argued. "Kid's been breakin' bones and hittin' his head since we've known 'im."

"I would simply put it up to him being quite clumsy," Phoebe hummed. "He doesn't always have the best coordination."

"He takes _dance_ classes," Helga said then. "There should be coordination coming out his _ears._ "

"...Okay...perhaps then, his sense of timing and reflexes..." Phoebe blinked, and removed her glasses to rub her eyes. "...Would _also_ have to be augmented by dance. Hm...concentration. Dancing takes focus, and he isn't _always_ focused..."

"Phoebe, babe," Gerald placed his hand on her shoulder and gently smirked, "Maybe just don't overthink it. Maybe it's _all_ those things. And heck, we've all seen weird things happen, right? Y'can't _prove_ it's bad luck, but...y'can't _disprove_ it either."

"Mm," she agreed after a second and nodded, "I suppose that is a good assessment, Gerald," she giggled with a grateful smile. "As always I thank you for your input."

"Aw, hey..." he blushed, "Ain't no problem. But," he cleared his throat, "Back to the original problem; does Arnold actually influence his luck?"

"...It _is_ a tad strange that he seems to always be there when a grave accident strikes," the intellectual girl murmured, "But it could all just be coincidence."

"It's a buncha crock, is what it is," Helga scoffed. "Being around Arnold's never caused _me_ any bad luck." _You only make all my troubles seem so distant, my beloved..._ "No, you can blame my _family_ for that. Everything else...I'd just blame on myself." _Myself and my wretched impulses to keep my secrets about_ _him_ _so very tightly locked..._

"Eh, my man's gotten me in some trouble over the years, but he ain't givin' _me_ any kinda Eugene luck. Okay, maybe y'all are right, it's all nonsense," Gerald chuckled. "Still, it's just interestin' to think about..."

Arnold by this point, having been silent and thoughtful, listening to the conversation and letting everything whirl around in his mind from the doubt to the guilt to trying to walk on pained legs, just about had it; and it was evident in the shocked silence of his friends when, coming upon the side alley to his house, he immediately broke from the group, whirled around, and full-force _kicked_ a trash can, bending it almost in half and sending it careening _straight_ for the back fence.

The deafening, echoing _KA-CLANG_ it made once it hit the mark and slid down, still upright with a sizable dent, made the air between the four wide-eyed children even thicker as they watched Arnold try to come down from his sudden adrenaline high with deep, shuddering breaths.

"... _Wow_ ," A mildly stunned Helga had to let out after a pause.

"Yeah...s'been a while since we seen him do anything like _that_ ," Gerald said, just as amazed. _Seriously, where was Arnold the Karate Kid HIDING in San Lorenzo?_ _The jinx thing must've REALLY gotten to him._

"Guys," Arnold forced out between his breaths, trying not to clench his teeth, "Can we _please stop talking_ about the Eugene stuff, and get going _inside_ n—OW!" he yelped all of a sudden when he tried to put his weight back on the foot that he'd used to kick, all but falling over to hold his pained leg.

"Arnold!" he heard Helga call as, immediately, she and Gerald rushed to his sides again and bent down to look him over. "What's hurting you?"

"It looks to be an ankle strain," Phoebe observed, having also come up in front of them right then.

"Oof, man, I _thought_ you might've strained somethin' in that heroic act," Gerald shook his head and nabbed his arm to put around his shoulders. "Let's getcha up those stairs."

"Yeah, seriously, Arnold...we won't talk about it anymore if it bugs you so much, but don't be doing _any_ more of that!" Helga demanded, albeit in a lighter tone than she usually took with her orders, and placed his other arm around her neck, helping to lift. "Not until you've sat down for a while. Pheebs, couldja get the door?"

"Getting," Phoebe chirped, already placing her hand on the knob, while her friends put their effort into helping Arnold onto his stoop.

Hissing between his teeth, the injured kid lifted his head. "Watch out for the..."

"No worries, Arnold; I think that all of us know the routine by this point," said Helga's best friend with a tiny grin as she released the throng of pets and semi-pets from inside their temporary home, with the rest of the kids carefully over to the side and out of their way.

Once they were gone and all was clear, Gerald chuckled. "Oh hey, Stinky should've stuck around, there's his pet bat...and I _still_ wonder why that _snake_ happened to bum a ride back..."

"One snake will not disturb the local ecosystem," Phoebe pointed out. "Well, one hopes...best not think about it, right?"

"Heh, now you're gettin' it, Pheebs," her boyfriend said with a toothy, flirtatious grin, to which she could be heard giggling.

Helga couldn't help but grin and roll her eyes at this display. _Keep on truckin', Hair Boy. At least you and Phoebe flirting seems to be getting the tension down around here._ Indeed, Helga's first concern now (after getting Arnold to a safe place) was getting to talk with him about his sudden hangup on this whole "jinx" craziness.

Once they'd managed to get a less-pained Arnold into the house and to the couch in the den, Gerald called upward. "'Ey, Doc Shortmans, either o' you around?"

"I am, I'll be there in a second," called Stella's voice from somewhere in the kitchen (at this, Arnold felt like a weight of worry had been lifted from his shoulders...he always wondered if this was the feeling that every kid had when they heard their mother's voice in a comforting tone, knowing they were always there).

Helga slumped on the back of the couch, just above where Arnold was reclining, her arms dangling over him. "Whew," she grinned and wiped her brow in an exaggerated fashion, "You gain weight or something, Arnoldo?"

"I think he's _always_ been that heavy," Gerald smirked along. "S'gotta be his overbearing sense of heroism."

"Ha-ha," Arnold snorted, batting Gerald's shoulder and Helga's arm with his respective hands. "Can I live that down _sometime_ this summer?"

"Nope," his two weaknesses both chimed in together, only making him shake his head with an amused smirk while Phoebe hid a giggle in her palm.

Stella appeared in the room not a second later, wiping her hands free of dishwater as she sent Arnold's friends a warm and welcoming smile. "Hello, everyone, what...?"

She was struck silent right then as her widened eyes fell upon Arnold, and she immediately knelt to his side, her face falling into panicked concern. "Sweetie, you look like you've been dragged over the ground! What happened?" The kids knew that the question was just as much directed to them as it was to her son, as her eyes wandered to each of them for clarity.

"Mom, it's okay, it's not bad; just got a strained ankle," Arnold spoke up first.

"Doing _what,_ might I ask?" Stella inquired as she helped her son take his shoes and socks off to inspect said ankle a little more. "You're all scraped up!" She sighed loudly and shook her head. "I swear...for a while I thought you weren't going to end up as clumsy as your father..."

"Well, Arnold's never been exactly _clumsy_ , Doc—Stella," Helga corrected herself as she spoke up as well, "But we did run into a _chronically_ clumsy classmate of ours on the way here..."

Phoebe cleared her throat. "Indeed, Helga's correct, Doctor. A compatriot of ours, Eugene-"

"-Who we pretty much labeled as the class _jinx_ since preschool, he's that unlucky," Gerald added.

"...Was barreling at full speed on a broken scooter towards the street. Arnold managed to snatch him and, in the process, sorta..."

"Tripped," Helga suddenly jumped in, knowing that Phoebe's eloquent manner of speaking would falter if she'd been forced to downplay the exact event (never had she been a good liar herself), "Got pulled along a little and scraped them both up; but only a little bit. I mean, give the kid props anyway, he _did_ probably save Eugene's life."

"All in a day's work for Arnold the Saint," Gerald said with a nonetheless proud smirk toward his best friend with his arms crossed, and the kid in question rolled his eyes, a tiny smile appearing on him as well.

Stella blinked in surprise for a moment, taking in the story, before letting out something between a hum and a groan (the tiniest of smiles appearing too, though she hid it well). "You are _definitely_ your father's son...which ankle is it?"

"Left one."

"Gotcha. Anyway; if you _aren't_ clumsy, you definitely have his sense of altruism down...he'll rush headlong into _anything_ if it means helping people."

"Hey, I can feel my ears burning from upstairs," came the laughing voice of Miles as he too appeared in the living room, sparing a friendly wave towards Arnold's friends and, after glancing at his prone son, a short wince. "Ooh...someone got up close and personal with the pavement..."

" _Your_ son saved one of his friends, hon," Stella spared him a sideways grin. "Sounds familiar, doesn't it?" She turned back to her task at hand, holding the offending ankle. "Here, does it hurt if I squeeze here...?"

At that, Arnold hissed and tensed up, a groan settling at the back of his throat. "Yeah; and it's hard to walk on it."

"Seems like a strain to me...no swelling, that's good; should be back on your feet with some rest today."

"Wow," Miles chuckled as he came beside his wife and leaned on the back of the couch with his elbow, beaming with some pride at his boy. "Saving peoples' lives at your age; I was just saving stray pets when _I_ was ten."

"Heh," Arnold chuckled shyly and scratched the back of his head. "Well, see, it's not a terribly big deal...Eugene does things like that all the time. Tripping, falling or bumping into things, going down manholes, getting stuck in trees, and the roller coaster at Dinoland broke down once when just me and him were on it, and we got stuck for hours..." It was then that Arnold started on a tangent of things that _he_ was involved in. "His bike got broken, I accidentally killed his goldfish, I planned _three_ birthday parties that got ruined..."

"Right, right, I think they get it, man," Gerald said, placing a hand on his shoulder to stop him. "Basically, like we said, he's a jinx. The list just _goes on_."

"Holy..." Miles slapped the side of his head, eyes wide. "I mean, I'm bad sometimes, but I'm not _that_ bad...poor kid..."

"Yeah...but he's always up and walking again hours later, maybe days if he broke something," Helga pointed out. "Guy's so used to his bad luck, never complains about it...I swear he's just snapped somewhere and now is just a ball of perpetual optimistic denial. At least Arnold here, he's always been there more than once to help him out."

"...Or make things worse..." Arnold muttered.

Despite it being said beneath his breath, everyone around him still heard him, standing for a second in brief, thick silence as his gaze turned to the back of the couch...away from everyone's eyes.

"Dude," Gerald said, breaking the quiet, "You can't actually _believe_ that, can ya?"

"S'hard not to when it keeps getting brought up," Arnold pointed out, grimacing (and making his friends shrink into their shoulders a little). "Think about it...I really _was_ there every time something bad happened to Eugene..."

Helga rolled her eyes. "You couldn't have been there _every_ time..."

"-And then every time I tried to help, it only failed," he interrupted harshly. "EVERY time. And, really, unfortunate things have happened to everybody around me at least once...it's just, sometimes..." Arnold struggled to find the words of his mood, just letting out a disturbed sigh. "...Sometimes, maybe I _do_ feel a little cursed."

"Oh, Arnold, sweetie..." his mother sighed, breaking him out of his thoughts as she leaned forward to gently tussle his hair. "Don't be silly. You aren't cursed—there's no such thing...and there's no being 'jinxed' either. Some people are just more prone to things like that."

"Yeah, seriously," Miles laughed off with a wave of his hand. "I've lost count of how many accidents I've had. And from what I've seen of you, son, you're a pretty capable kid...I wouldn't call you cursed at all." There was a short pause, and then as if something struck him, the father's face fell from a laughing grin to a thoughtful frown. "...Unless..."

All eyes glanced up to him in curiosity. "Unless what?" Arnold cautiously inquired.

Miles then seemed to break out of his thoughts like he broke out of a trance, his wide eyes darting to meet those of his audience. "Ahh...nothing, it's nothing...y'know what, I'm probably getting in the way of things here, I oughta get back to leafing through my journals..." he started backing away, "I mean, all this organizing since we got back, it's never gonna get done...I'll catchya later!" he finished with an exaggerated wink and a pointing gesture to hide the fact that his grin seemed a little nervous, and quickly enough his back was turned and he was all but rushing back to the stairwell, footsteps echoing easily even above them on the ceiling.

There was a quick beat, before Helga cleared her throat. "Is it just me, or does he seem to be hiding something?"

"Helga..." Arnold sighed and placed a hand on his girlfriend's elbow, but didn't really try to chastise her more about being tactful...after all, she was right, and now _he_ was dripping with curiosity.

She shrugged back at him as if to say, "What, he does," but only spared a small grin.

Stella, with a sigh, stood up. "No, Helga's right on the nose; he only acts that nervous when he _is_ hiding something, and usually something I won't like to hear." She crossed her arms and turned back to the children. "Could you guys watch over Arnold while I go investigate?" _And probably interrogate my dear husband..._

"Y'can count on us, Doc," Gerald saluted, as did the other two kids surrounding the prone boy (who, himself, just let his head fall back on the arm of the couch).

"I know I can," Stella said with a gentle smile and added while turning toward the stairs, "I'll find you an ice pack to put on that while I'm gone, sweetie."

And with that, she marched with a determined state of purpose to the stairwell, her own footfalls more subdued in tone but nonetheless just as urgent as she followed her husband's trail.

* * *

"...Was it in this one...? Oh, no, that's the translation for the ciphers, forgot where I put those...maybe it was in this one..."

Once Miles Shortman had reached his destination back upstairs (which turned out to be one of the rooms that could barely ever be filled, having been turned into his and Stella's personal bedroom and sort-of office space for all of their clutter), he'd immediately began sifting through the boxes labeled in his name for the notes on the Green-Eyes; he could have almost kicked himself for having forgotten to separate any of his notes, or at least label them when he packed.

He wouldn't have even been so hasty to disturb what progress he'd made on them so far, if it weren't for the fact that his son's predicament left him with a sort of hazy memory that, nonetheless, he wanted to make sure to confirm for himself.

Miles was only probably halfway through one box when, suddenly, he heard the door to the room shut quickly behind him; not loud enough to slam, though. It was the deliberately-loud _click_ that the latch made when it closed that made him gulp. He _knew_ that his wife would have followed him up anyway...but as always, it was nice to _hope_ that she would overlook his haste in leaving.

He turned slowly with what he hoped was a placating smile toward Stella, who was standing at the door with her arms crossed and a do-not-mess-with-me frown.

"Alright, Miles, spill; what had you running up here all of a sudden like the dogs were biting your ankles?"

"...Did I really go that fast? Heh, I thought I'd taken the stairs at a jog, at the most...I mean, you're always telling me we should get some more exercise, y'know, get our strength back-"

"-You have ten seconds."

"...Uh...okay, look, the thing is...I don't remember the _specific_ details, I mean this was nearly ten years ago that I'm thinking of, and some of the things about the jungle are a bit of a blur, and that's why I was looking through my journals, for clarification-"

"- _Five_ seconds," she interrupted through gritted teeth. She usually found it cute when Miles was trying to backpedal to save his skin from her wrath, but currently, she was starting to get annoyed.

For Miles, he only had to love that he still knew his wife—and she him—so very well, that he recalled when it was better for him to spit it out, and _then_ explain.

"...I _maaaaay..._ have put a Green-Eye curse on our son...when he was a baby. _On accident!_ " he added quickly, his hands up in a plea for mercy.

Stella though, after hearing that, was torn between being frustrated with him and being amused...neither was particularly winning, and it just made her nose scrunch up when she gave him a look of confusion. "... _What_ in Heaven's name are you talking about?"

Miles let out a sigh, gathered his thoughts for a beat, and then began again. "It was just an idea I had at the time; the Green-Eyes had helped us out so _much,_ for all the time we lived there, and when Arnold was born...so, I did some research on some of their rites and rituals, holy blessings...and, to honor them, I suppose, I wanted to give our only newborn son a blessing, in their way." He chuckled shyly. "Probably sounds silly now, I mean, we could never even _speak_ to the Green-Eyes, they were too secretive...perhaps there would have been a way to get their permission. But then again, Eduardo and I had studied their language enough, I thought I could do it myself."

At this explanation, Stella's look softened, and she couldn't help but let a grin tug at her lip. It was so very much like her husband to want to do something that sentimental; something special to both honor their son and the people that had given a guiding hand in bringing him into the world—in _their_ world, a wild and nigh-unforgiving jungle that had been silenced for the few moments that the boy had drawn his first breaths in a cry.

But, of course, there _was_ more to the explanation. Her head tilted. "While that's very sweet to think about you doing that, I'm wondering exactly where a _curse_ comes in, instead?"

"Heh," he gave a toothy, sheepish grin and went back to the box in front of him. "That's exactly why I came running here. Hearing Arnold talking about being jinxed, it made me suddenly remember that day...I could even remember, just like it was _yesterday_ , Stella, the exact words of the blessing..." he cringed a little. "... _Then_ I remembered wondering all that night if I'd done it right, because if I'd gotten just _one_ thing wrong, mispronounced a word, _whatever_ , then it would be like putting a curse on him. And every single time we watched him almost get into trouble, had to _narrowly_ escape the danger he'd wander into...I never really got to double-check my notes back then until now. I just suddenly _really_ wanted to find out."

After a moment of contemplative silence, waiting for her reaction, he heard his wife step closer and kneel down with him next to the box, her hand on his shoulder. "Then how come, back then, you didn't just ask Eduardo for help? And come to think of it, why wasn't _I_ part of this impromptu baptism, huh?" She lightly smacked him on the shoulder, but there was everything of mirth in her smirk.

He laughed and nervously scratched the back of his head. "You were out getting more supplies at the time; and plus, according to their culture, it's a father-son thing."

"Oooof course," Stella snorted.

With a snort of his own, he placed his hand on hers. "As for Eduardo..." he paused and frowned, putting his free hand to his temples. "...Y'know, I forget _why_ I didn't ask him for help...or even _if_ I did or not...it's...so many things are still a blur."

Stella frowned back with understanding, leaning against him and staring down into the box like it was naught but empty space to comprehend. "We were asleep for far too long."

She felt him breathe in deeply. "Well, we're here _now_...those Green-Eyed kids are probably the bravest and most resourceful youngsters in all of human civilization, having kept us and their parents alive in our sleep. Along with Arnold and his friends, braving the jungle to rescue us."

The mother chuckled. "You'd _better_ give the kids their credit; they deserve it. And you know...I would just bet that if that blessing was meant to do anything for our son, then it did. He found us. He and his friends...and Helga...everything that they keep saying that he's responsible for...he really turned out to be a lucky kid. You shouldn't worry about a silly blessing."

"You know I _do_ worry," he argued. "I've studied the Green-Eyed people for a long time, and I feel I treat their culture and beliefs as carefully as _they_ do. With everything I've seen, I can't _help_ but believe in it _somehow._ "

Stella fought back against rolling her eyes; while she could never deny the mysterious power that the jungle people seemed to have along with the nature of their world, her feet had always been planted in the grounds of reality. Blessings and curses were fine and well; but the real world was just as much a factor in fortune, if not more so. Still, she looked her husband in the eye and gave him a reassuring smile. If this was going to make him feel better, then she was going to be there.

"I know, Miles. C'mon, we'll look for those notes together. They _have_ to be here somewhere. If I know you, Mr. Meticulous, you packed them all and _then_ some."

"Well, I've been known to have bad luck, too. Meticulous as I can be, I can _still_ never find some things again." He huffed and rested his chin on his hand. "Maybe _I'm_ the one with the Green-Eyes curse."

"If you're cursed, then _I'm_ cursed, being married to you," Stella laughed, "Yet, miraculously, I'm still here."

"Stell, I firmly believe that _you're_ the only woman _alive_ who could probably fight a curse tooth and nail and come out without a scratch."

"Flattery gets you everywhere," she grinned and sneaked a kiss to his cheek. "But right now, we've got boxes to dig through."

* * *

Downstairs, meanwhile, Arnold had his eyes closed while he was still resting his head back, just listening to his mother's footsteps until they could barely be made out on the second floor. As always, his thoughts were on a running blur.

 _What in the world could've made Dad rush out all of a sudden? What's he know that we don't? Is...am I ACTUALLY cursed, and they've been hiding it from me all this time? Is it a Green-Eyes thing? And how does Eugene fit into the picture, I mean, HE'S the one that always nearly getting everything broken, but I'm always still there..._

"...Arnold? Hey, Arnold! _Dude_ , get back to _Earth_ for a minute, huh?"

At the sound of his name, and Gerald's voice getting progressively louder, and finally the sight of his fingers snapping in front of his eyes, Arnold blinked and quickly sat up again. "Huh, what!" he whipped his head around to him. "What's goin' on?"

Phoebe gently cleared her throat. "Well, again, we were hoping that _you_ would tell us that."

"Yeah, man, you're spacin' like there's no tomorrow!" Gerald said with an eyebrow raised and his arms crossed.

Arnold just shrugged. "I space all the time."

He heard a sigh from above him, and he turned to see Helga still leaning her arms over the back of the couch. "What our two best friends are _trying_ to say is that you suddenly look real pensive about this whole 'jinx' malarkey. You're practically being hailed as a hero, _again_ , for a demonstration of the great deeds you do, and here you're being sulky. Lighten up, Football Head," she smirked and gave his head a light noogie, " _You_ of all the little balls of sunshine aren't _allowed_ to be sulky."

"Yeah, man, you're among your friends," Gerald pointed out as he leaned against the coffee table before the couch, "Tell us what's buggin' ya."

"It should indeed help to speak candidly about the problem at hand," Phoebe said as she adjusted her glasses. "You know you won't be ridiculed for it."

Arnold let in a deep breath and sighed again. "...I'm not afraid of being ridiculed. It's just like I said. What Eugene said just seems to be sticking with me, and now I'm wondering if there isn't some truth to the whole thing."

Gerald's eyes rolled. "Now you _know_ that's not true. I know I picked on ya about it, but ya know I was jus' bein' funny, 'cause I thought _you_ found it funny. _Eugene's_ the one with the bad luck, and _he's_ the one that gets everyone around him caught up in it, whether you're there or not. Y'gotta know that."

"Besides," Helga added, "If anything, you bring everyone _else_ luck. Every single time a huge problem pops up, _you're_ there to solve it. People in our class don't actively come to a _jinx_ for a right answer, they come to _you_...you're always there when Eugene's breaking bones, because you're the _best_ guy for the job to keep him out of trouble. There aren't many people in this entire _city_ who don't praise you for doing your impossibly amazing guardian-angel thing." She smirked playfully. "Or didn't a certain prize-winning video compilation get that hammered into your wide head?"

Remembering said video, Arnold felt a familiar warmth in his heart, and he hummed a chuckle. "Yeah...true, I guess...I dunno why being called that just gets to me. Eugene..."

"Eugene's in denial, is _my_ guess," Gerald said, shaking his head. "Don't be listenin' to him, man. Anyway," he grunted as he pushed off the coffee table. "If that's settled, mind if I raid the fridge? I'm dyin' for a soda. Anyone else?"

"Yeah, grab me one too, Geraldo," Helga gave him a wave. "Whaddya say, Hero Boy? Say the word, and we can probably get a tray of gourmet snacks in here too."

"I'm not ordering anyone around, Helga," Arnold said with a chiding look and a laugh. "My ankle'll be better soon. Just a soda would be good."

"Aw, c'mon, live a little an' let us put together a snack tray," Gerald snickered. "You almost _never_ let anyone give ya anything in return unless we insist. So don't make us insist."

 _At least I didn't save SID'S life again,_ Arnold thought with a sigh and rolled his eyes. "Alright, sure, make snacks too if you want."

"Shall I come with?" asked a smiling Phoebe with her hands behind her back. "I feel I should be of some help in the endeavor of snack-making."

"Hey, the more the merrier, babe," Gerald said with a flash of a smile and gestured her forward. Giggling, she took his invitation, but grabbed his hand in passing as they wandered toward the kitchen.

The two blonde kids shared a few snickers at their best friends once they were out of earshot. "I'm glad to see Gerald happy with Phoebe," Arnold smiled. "I've had to help him through too many girlfriend problems."

Helga snorted. "Suddenly I have an image of you playing Cupid."

"Heh; the stories I could tell..." he said, his voice trailing off into a sigh. His mirthful smile didn't last long, however, as it fell back into a pensive frown. As much of a wonderful distraction his friends and their advice were, still his mind would always stick to a problem, like gum to the underside of a desk...and it wandered again back to what his parents could be finding out...and what exactly it meant, come to think of it, that he always _was_ there for everyone else, fixing _their_ problems.

Arnold never considered himself a selfish person, and nobody could ever tell you that he _was_ , by a long shot...even if he'd had some moments in his youth. And to a fault, he never complained about the help he gave to others. Their happiness was enough to make him happy, too. So why now, and sometimes on other occasions, did it make him feel just utterly exhausted?

Helga noticed the sudden silence and glanced down to see him no longer on Earth again, mentally. Frowning with concern, she moved around to the front of the couch and reached to flick his nose.

"Ow!" Arnold exclaimed as he jolted up again, holding the aching appendage and giving Helga a pointed look. "What was _that_ for?"

"I felt it was faster than calling your name a buncha times to get you to get outta space again," she said with a matter-of-fact tone, then turned around to sit on the floor between the couch and the coffee table, closely next to him. "What _else_ has to be bugging you, Hero Boy?"

"That my new nickname now?" he had to ask with a sideways smirk.

"What, you actually _prefer_ 'Football Head'?" she smirked back, rather amused at that.

He shrugged, glancing up. "I guess I'm just more used to it. You've called me that for as long as I can remember."

A memory then struck Helga, of the first time she ever _did_ call him that. It had been in first grade...it was also the very first time that she'd ever lashed out at _him_ in particular, instead of the other kids so that they'd refrain from ever teasing her. He'd wanted to find out what she was sad about (not that she could remember _why,_ she just _was,_ big surprise). She also still remembered the shocked, almost pained look in his eye as he just walked off to leave her alone, as per her high-pitched, shouted wishes. She had almost run back to him to apologize...but as always, she never got the nerve, and the name had been used again later...and stuck. Helga could never pinpoint the _exact_ moment that she'd cemented herself as the iron-fisted bully of their grade, but that was one of the moments that stuck out.

 _All things considered, probably better late than never._ She took a long breath, as she practiced before saying anything sincere, looked around in case of eavesdroppers, and spoke. "Y'know...that I never really _meant_ that as an insult...right, Arnold? I-I think it came out on the fly, long ago...but it's always been more of a...pet name, I guess? I mean, I end up giving a nickname to everybody, but even if it always _sounded_ like yours was an insult...you can tell by now I love everything about you...including your head. A-anyway, yeah...if you ever _were_ insulted, I-I'm...y'know...sorry," she finished and squinted her eyes shut, her hand over the locket at her heart, as always waiting to receive some sort of comeback or act of justice for her apology on impulse.

Instead, she felt Arnold's weight shifting forward on the couch and his hand on her shoulder. When she turned to meet his eyes, there it was, the forgiving smile and shining eyes that also held an extra spark of warmth, of caring, of what she would dare call love...the look reserved for her alone.

"I'm not insulted by it, Helga...I mean, maybe I was at one time," he shrugged it off, "But, like I said, I'm so used to you calling me that, that I just sorta never think ill of it anymore. I'd probably be worried if you ever _stopped_ calling me that. But, thanks for the apology...I know those take a lot to bring out, and so I know you're sincere about it."

Helga swore to every deity that would listen that she'd never, _ever_ get tired of that fiery, warm feeling that gripped her heart whenever Arnold brought her out of her own doubts. _Every bit a hero as the ones in myths of old, my beloved..._

She found herself with a quivering, smiling lip as she tried to hold back the giddy happiness that threatened to make her monologue, in a boarding house full of people who'd probably hear it from straight through the floor. "I...thanks...Football Head," she said in a tone that, probably for the first time, hadn't come with the snide attitude linked with the nickname. It was soft, quiet, probably for the purpose of just being heard by the two of them in the public space of the den. "Heh...see the good that you do? Even you saying something like that, it...well, frankly, makes me happier than I could imagine ever being before."

Arnold smiled at that, feeling the same warmth gripping his heart when he saw Helga beaming, just because of something _he'd_ done...somehow, it was better, stronger than the feeling he'd gotten with helping others. Whether it was because he cared deeply for this girl, or because he knew that she was the one in need of happiness the most of all, or both, he _couldn't_ feel bad about achieving this one. "You're always welcome, Helga."

There was a moment when they were just watching each other with hazy eyes, before Helga turned and laid her crossed arms on the couch by his side, her head resting on them. "Anyway, you sentimental little shrimp, you didn't answer my question. What _else_ is bugging you?"

He hummed and laid his head back again, eyes to the ceiling as he thought about it. "I just...suddenly wondered, while you guys were pointing out to me how much I've helped people...I've...wow...I've done a _lot_."

"You've done _more_ than a lot," Helga pointed out with a quirked eyebrow. "Doi...you've done more than _any_ kid your age has any _right_ to do."

"I _know!_ " he exclaimed, throwing up his arms. "I mean...it's still kinda amazing, and I'm still proud of everything I do for everybody, and I know how grateful everyone is...but...I dunno...is it selfish of me to think that...maybe...I don't do enough for myself?"

Helga's skeptical look disappeared into surprise, and she blinked, raising her head. "Arnold...you're probably the _only_ kid I've _ever_ heard say that they feel _bad_ about thinking of _themselves_ for once."

Arnold gripped his head and groaned. "I don't feel _bad_ , I just...it's..." he fell into a dead silence and let his arms flop back down onto his stomach. "I _do_ do things for myself, enjoy myself, but, I just find I'm mostly enjoying myself when I go out of my way for others. It's complicated I guess."

"...Nah. You're just letting yourself _think_ it's complicated," Helga pointed out. "You _do_ feel a little bad about thinking a little selfishly. But you shouldn't."

The football-headed child glanced back up at her, blinking. "Really? I mean, all everyone really compliments me on is how helpful I am, and I'm just used to really being seen like that..."

"Look," Helga sighed and sat up again, facing him with her arms crossed. "It's like I said. You're still just a _kid_. A kid who puts _way_ too much on his shoulders. You're not Atlas, bucko; the world's not gonna fall into oblivion if you give yourself a break."

"The school almost did, that one time everyone was calling me a busybody..."

"-Okay, no, that was _my_ fault for insisting on giving advice in your stead; I admitted that one," she held up her finger to keep him silent as she spoke. "If I _hadn't_ done anything, I would hope that everyone would've just found out what to do themselves...they're all goofballs, but I think they're all mature enough to do that, or _try_ to be. That was _not_ on you. And if you decided for one day that you wanted to do only what _you_ wanted to do, it would _not_ fall apart."

"Well, it did for me one day; remember The List for a Kid's Perfect Saturday? Everything I tried, _all_ failed."

Helga scoffed loudly. "Do _you_ remember being warned that _no_ kid could finish that list? If you did anything, it's that you were so overly-confident that the Universe decided to hit you with the mother of all Murphy's Law days."

"'Murphy's Law'?"

"'If it CAN go wrong, it WILL go wrong'. Stay with me, Einstein," Helga sighed. "I know _that_ one intimately. The Universe and I have a love-hate relationship."

Arnold couldn't help but laugh, and Helga reveled in the sound of his mirth before continuing. "My point is, you _have_ to have times where you focus on caring for _you_ too. Do what makes _you_ happy, and if it ever turns out that helping someone doesn't make you happy, then _don't._ The others will live, the world won't end, and if anybody gets mad at that, well...you can karate chop 'em in the head," she smirked and smacked her fist in her palm. "Or, call me, and _I'll_ do it for ya."

He chuckled warmly. "I doubt it'll come to that...and...thanks for the talk, Helga. Y'know, it's funny; you say you were bad at giving the others advice. But...you're one of the few people who gives _me_ real, solid advice whenever I need it. You actually give _back_ to me...and you've done more than I could ever ask of you, or _imagine_ of you...and..."

"Please, enough of the mush," Helga stopped him with a wave of her hand, and she wished that she could willingly stop the blood from rushing to her cheeks or cease her heart's relentless pounding against her ribs, whenever he started to go on a tangent about how wonderful he suddenly found her. "I'm just evening things out, is all."

He shook his head and took that hand in his own, tightly squeezing her fingers and making her eyes go wide. "You should take your own advice, Helga. Won't you ever accept compliments? You deserve good for yourself as much as I do. In fact...you might be just as bad at letting yourself _have_ that good, as I am."

"Arnold, I told you," she sighed, turning to him, "You _are_ what makes me happy; one of the few things in this stupid world that does. I don't care _what_ you say, Football Head, I _am_ happy to give back, if it means that much. Living that knowing what I did actually _helped_ has been enough lately. Besides, this is about _you_ and _your_ dumb hangups about whether or not you're meant to live for others. So, you'd _better_ be feeling better, because I'm suddenly feeling drained." _Not to mention EXTREMELY warm right now..._ _must you be so good at touching my heart?_

Despite seeing her aggravation start to rise again, Arnold just smiled and leaned forward to lay a soft, lingering kiss to the fingers of her hand. "I _do_ feel better. About everything. Thank you, Helga." He let her fingers slip out of his, only catching the tips together before it did. "So much."

And he did get to see how happy those compliments made her, when she let her hands cross over her heart and she let out her breath in a love-struck swoon, falling back against the couch base, eyes fluttering closed. He watched her with a smitten look, lost in his own warmth. _If I only make ONE person happy for the rest of my life..._

After a second of trying to hold her effervescent, poetic side in, Helga sighed and turned again to him, her eyes opening half-way. "Well, hey, you're always welcome, too. But," she stood up, "Speaking of making each other happy...now that your mystery is solved, I happen to have one more request of you."

Arnold blinked, slightly cautious at her sudden, serious demeanor. "...Alright...lemme hear it."

But, he suddenly had to gulp when Helga's scowl came back, and she gripped his shoulders, bearing closely into his wide eyes.

"I can never stop you from doing your heroics. But _crimeny,_ for the _love of Pete,_ don't you _ever, EVER_ do something so dangerous again! For cryin' out loud, do you _know_ how it _was_ for me to always see you attempting every _painful, stupid, twisted STUNT_ in the hope that you come out _alive_?"

Still wide-eyed and frozen solid, all that Arnold could do was listen to Helga while her fervent grip slowly softened with her eyes. He caught the very slight moment when the demanding set of her lips wavered. "Promise me that, or I _swear_ someday I'll just kill you myself! And...spare us both the trouble," she finished, her voice easily losing its edge and falling quiet again, almost...pleading?

His aching heart raced; she'd never yet say it, but there she was, telling him with her look alone, that she'd been worried...had always been worried, before he ever knew enough about her. At the moment, all he wanted to do was hug her, tightly.

It hadn't been Arnold who'd broken the silence at that moment though, but instead Phil, who'd come in from the kitchen's back door (and had come into the den after listening to the conversation a little from the other room) with a chuckle. "Heheh...I believe this is the part where you'd better say 'yes ma'am,' Short Man."

"Grandpa..." Arnold sighed, shaking his head as he felt Helga letting him go in surprised self-consciousness, instead setting herself back to the floor.

Phil waved his hand. "Aw, I'm just teasin', Arnold. Really, it's natural that your girlfriend'd be worried about ya pullin' off all that you do. Sorry to bust in, kids, I'm passin' through wonderin' where in tarnation'd I put my shovel. Seems one of the trash cans got the dickens beat outta it; there's garbage everywhere in the yard by the alley fence! Know anythin' about that?"

At that, Arnold put on a wide, nervous grin and glanced to Helga, who only shrugged. "Search us. Some dogs probably dragged it back there on accident or something."

"Right," the grandfather grinned with narrowed eyes at the youngsters. "Well, I _did_ get to hear about your latest escapade from yer friends in there; so just rest up an' get that ankle better, Short Man. And Helga, guard 'im with yer life; might just disappear on ya if he feels the need."

The blonde girl snorted loudly and gave him a mock salute. "You got it, Phil. I can keep him in line."

"Can she ever," Arnold muttered, albeit with a fond grin back to the girl in question.

With that, Phil barked out another laugh and a wistful sigh. "Oh, you're definitely a chip off the ol' block, boy. Us Shortman men always seem to end up with the gals that can kick our butts three ways t' Sunday, heheh!" He rolled his eyes upward and walked away, muttering himself. "Must be another family curse."

" _Please_ don't say the word 'curse'," his grandson just grumbled.

Left alone again, Helga just snickered and scooted closer so that her back was to his side, crossing her arms. "What's he mean by 'another' curse? Don't tell me you're _actually_ jinxed."

"No," he just sighed out a laugh and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Grandpa's referring to the fact that everyone in the family before him died at ninety-one. There was this whole scare when his birthday passed last year and he thought it was eighty-one. _He_ thinks it's a curse...I just think it's coincidence. He's too healthy."

Helga chuckled. "Well, only time will tell. Heck, maybe it'll cancel out." She leaned closer, rising to sit on the edge of the couch beside him, and raised her eyebrow. "Plus, _you're_ gonna have someone who makes _sure_ that you live to see ninety-one." Her eyes narrowed. "About that promise?"

Arnold put on a nervous smile and scratched the back of his head. "Almost forgot, heh." Then, his look turned sincere as he scooted to sit upward. "I'm not sure I can promise that I'll _never_ get into dangerous situations again, but..." his hand went to her shoulder, "I can promise to _try._ I don't really _want_ anyone to worry about me."

As always, she felt a wave of warmth where he laid his gentle touch, and Helga had to hide a loving smile behind a snide grin; it shone in her eyes instead. "Worried? Heh, c'mon...who said _I_ was worried?"

"Kinda had a feeling," he smirked back with his half-lidded gaze, and before she knew it, she'd been tugged into a tight embrace.

As used to his unscripted, grateful hugs as she was, Helga's eyes were still wide with (wonderful, _beautiful_ ) shock; but this time she dared not try to pry him off, even with a single movement. After the talk they'd had, with Arnold always finding it so easy to talk to her, to say what he thought with all of the trust that she'd take it to heart...she felt the weight of her importance to him. And it was anyway true; she _was_ worried, would always be worried for the young hero that sometimes came to be in her charge. _Oh, you keep on doing what you're meant to be doing, my love...and may you know that I will always be there to help you up again...for as I've said...you have my love, always._

With only a tiny pause, it was his turn to be slightly surprised as she wrapped her arms around him to return the embrace, in full. They held each other for a blissful moment of warmth, and Arnold felt the pain far away, both in his ankle and what had been gnawing on his mind. They were just lost, floating, safe together. He soon pulled away, stealing a lingering kiss to her cheek as he did. Their hands rested on the other's shoulders, and closely they locked their hazy gazes, green to blue, forehead to forehead, communicating again without words.

But Helga was the first to come to her senses, as always, clearing her throat with a deep blush as she sat up and took back her hands to lay one nervously at the back of her neck. "Heh, w-well, anyway...glad to get that cleared up, Football Head." _A_ _s much as I love these moments, there's gotta be a better time and place..._ _but GOSH he has to be the best hugger_ _,_ she sighed with regret and playfully slapped his shoulder. "Enough mush; you're still injured, and _I'm_ starting to wonder what's taking Gerald and Phoebe so long with those sodas and snacks."

Arnold, shaking his head a little to come out of his love-struck daydreams, just chuckled. "I'm sure they haven't been gone that long, Helga. _I'm_ wondering what's taking my parents, though."

"We're right here, sweetie," suddenly called Stella's voice, right on cue as she could be heard entering the den with her husband's footsteps trailing behind. "Found the ice pack, too. Here," she said as she leaned over the couch and placed it on his left ankle, "Keep that on there until it doesn't feel cold anymore." She cast a quick smile toward Helga. "And thanks again for watching over him."

"Hey, easy job," the girl laughed as she slid back to the floor, resting back on her arms over the couch. "Guy doesn't complain about laying around."

"When I don't have a choice, that is," Arnold quipped, eyes rolling up, but his smile stayed.

Stella snorted. "Again, just like his father, he's easy to take care of...if you can keep him from hurting himself in the first place. Anyway, I'll go help your friends in the kitchen. They seem to be having a time looking for the lunch meat."

Arnold snickered and whispered to Helga. "I'll bet Mr. Kokoshka stole all the lunch meat again."

" _I'll_ bet that our friends are just using that excuse to flirt with each other," Helga murmured back, the two of them sharing a knowing grin.

"Oh, hey," Miles suddenly piped up, looking around, "I thought I heard my dad's voice through here a moment ago."

"You did, he's looking for his shovel."

"Again?" Miles threw his hands up, sighing. "I _told_ him I put it in the garage."

The kids both laughed, and then Arnold caught his attention by tugging on his shirt. "Hey, Dad, I got a question about Grandpa. A million of 'em, actually, but one right now."

Miles turned to him with a wide smile; if there's one thing he and Stella both loved, it was the feeling of being there to answer anything that might be on his mind. "Shoot at it me, son."

"Is there _really_ a family curse, or was he caught up in believing one of his stories again?"

The older man barked out a laugh. "Which curse, the one where we only live to be ninety-one, or the one where we seem to only marry women who can beat us up?"

Helga tried to hold back her cackling behind her hands, and failed miserably (her head after all was filled with the buzzing thought that there could be real metaphysical _proof_ that she and her beloved were destined to be), as Arnold laid his blushing face in his palm. "Both."

Miles shook his head, snickering out the last of his own hysterics. "Oh, man, Pops and his stories...I kinda doubt the first one. Great-great-uncle Toby lived to be a hundred, but he'll argue that the curse only deals with our line directly. As for the second...well..."

"Miles, if you say that one _is_ a curse, I _will_ beat you up," Stella deadpanned, suddenly appearing again with a laughing Gerald and Phoebe close behind, one carrying sodas and the other carrying a platter of sandwiches.

"'Bout time, Pheebs," Helga sighed, "Toss me one of those sodas; I'm parched."

"Tossing!"

"So Arnold," Gerald grinned in his best friend's direction as the snacks were laid on the coffee table. "What'd you and _Helga_ talk about all alone in here?"

The blonde boy grinned back and popped the cork off his Yahoo. "What'd you and _Phoebe_ talk about that took so long?"

"Geez, man," the tall-haired boy raised his arms, "Ain't gonna be no fun teasin' ya if _we_ get teased."

"Sorry Geraldo," Helga laughed. "Eye for an eye. So, Pheebs?" she toothily smiled at her bespectacled friend.

As always, Phoebe couldn't help but blush. "We simply misplaced the location of all of the snack ingredients, is all."

"Riiight."

Miles and Stella stood back and watched the four children bantering together, holding one another and feeling a warmth in their hearts. There probably would never come a time where they weren't grateful for everything that happened; though they'd missed a good amount of their son's childhood, they could still watch him grow up now, alongside the special kids with whom he surrounded himself.

Their attention went back to Arnold as he moved to glance back at them though, his smile having vanished and his eyes curious. "So...what happened before that made you run out of here?"

The two parents shared a look, and then Stella gave him a short nod and a nudge. Miles smiled reassuringly. "It was nothing to worry about, Arnold; I'd just kinda remembered that when you were a baby, I practiced a blessing on you that the Green-Eyes have for their children, and almost thought that I cursed you instead. I had to look up the blessing to see if I got it right."

As the other three children shared interested gazes between them, Arnold tried to lean closer. "...And?"

The father chuckled warmly and laid a hand on his head, right between his unruly tufts of hair where the little hat that they'd given him still sat. "And, turns out, I _did_ have it right. Roughly translated, I said, 'may you be a blessing to your world, and may _you_ be blessed _with_ the world'. But I'm sure, even without it, you turned out to be one of the luckiest kids ever. I know _we're_ very lucky to have you."

That, Arnold felt that he already knew; not a bad day went by where, at the end, he always counted his blessings...and he found that there were always more of them to count when all was said and done.

"Ay- _men_ to that, Doc," Gerald said with sincere enthusiasm. "Now c'mon, we got snacks to eat in honor of _my_ best friend."

"So long as he doesn't get a big head about it," Helga quipped, ruffling his hair and sending him a discreet wink.

And so they ate and relaxed away the rest of the daylight, regaling the parents with stories about their son's past bravery (and downplaying the parts that would have made them worry for his life), with Arnold feeling all the more grateful that he wasn't left to stew anything over, and still humbled at every word of praise...as he figured he always would.


End file.
